


Trust Exercise

by QuoteMyFoot



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crimson Flower Route, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Gen, Marriage Proposal, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Political Alliances, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 09:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 46,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23968942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuoteMyFoot/pseuds/QuoteMyFoot
Summary: Edelgard takes a chance and, in an effort to head off a war with the Alliance before it can start, offers her hand in marriage to Claude. Hoping to discover the Empire's secrets, Claude comes to Enbarr while he pretends to be seriously interested in her offer. As the two spend more time together, however, they find themselves developing a surprising friendship. Maybe their visions for the future could be compatible after all? Meanwhile, Hilda has to grapple with what Dorothea and Hubert, the Emperor's spymaster, could be up to in Derdriu.A joining of the Crimson Flower and Verdant Wind routes.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Claude von Riegan, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 138
Kudos: 198





	1. Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not tagging the relationship because a) it won't come up for a significant chunk of the fic and b) I will only end up including it if I feel I've developed it well enough, but it's my intention to eventually make this an Edelgard/Claude/Byleth poly fic. Just giving a heads up in case that would affect anyone's reading experience.
> 
> I have the story planned out in broad strokes, but specifics will only come when I write the chapters. I will tag everything to the best of my ability, but new things may come up unexpectedly. Of course, if you feel there are any tags that I've missed, please let me know in the comments. I can also be contacted @helloquotemyfoot on tumblr if you prefer to speak privately.
> 
> I welcome comments of any kind and always love to hear from readers, so don't hesitate to leave any thoughts you may have.

The monotony of these private war councils had become rather disheartening of late.

“The situation within the Alliance remains stable—up to a point,” Hubert said. “Our allies make little progress in engaging diplomatically with the other lords, and – well. Judith of House Daphnel is currently conducting ‘training exercises’ in Lord Gloucester’s lands.” He gave Edelgard a wry smile. “He seems to think making an aggressive move now would be a mistake.”

“So the situation there remains in a stalemate, just as Claude wishes it to.” Edelgard sighed. Four years of this and they were no closer to realising their dream. “If the Professor were here, perhaps things would be different.”

Hubert pulled a face. “The power of the Sword of the Creator would turn the tides.”

“More than that, she has a unique way of looking at the world. I’m sure she would be able to come up with a solution…”

“And so will you in time, Lady Edelgard.”

Hubert always had such faith in her, even now, when the borders of the Kingdom had barely moved at all. What little ground they’d gained had no real strategic value to them or to their enemies. The Alliance quagmire was another reminder of how much she’d failed to achieve – and she felt the press of time more and more. But they could hardly afford to take decisive action against the Alliance and open up a war on two fronts…

Edelgard paused. She’d always assumed that they would have to fight Claude – the only conclusion she _could_ draw from Claude’s constant manoeuvring to keep the Alliance intact and under his command. But Byleth’s faith in her had shown her that unexpected allies could be found if she was willing to extend her hands. It would be an insult to her teacher if she failed to consider all possibilities, even if she thought the chances of them working were low. And whilst it was a longshot, it offered the possibility of avoiding conflict altogether… even if it did not work, they might have the opportunity to learn more about their foe.

“Actually, Hubert, I have a proposal.”

“Oh? Excellent.” Hubert set aside the stack of reports he’d entered with and picked up a blank paper and a quill to take notes. “What is your plan, Lady Edelgard?”

At least he listened to all of her explanation before folding his arms and saying, “Absolutely not.”

Edelgard sighed. It wasn’t like Hubert to reject any suggestion out of hand, but he also found it difficult to trust… something she could understand, but which she was determined not to let hold her back from other possibilities. “You will have to explain your reasoning.”

“Lady Edelgard, it’s—” He seemed to struggle to find the words, and he was fidgety in a way which was rare for him, his flexing fingers almost completely hidden by the folds of his coat. “It’s preposterous that you should have to offer yourself to this man,” he said, eventually, in a calmer tone. “He’s an outsider and we know very little of his motives, except that he’s placed himself in opposition to you.”

“Then the negotiations ought to reveal more of his character,” Edelgard countered. “You’ve always said that knowing a man is key to understanding his actions. If we know Claude even a little better, we’ll be better able to anticipate his moves.”

Hubert frowned. “And this is sufficient reason to offer him your hand in marriage, Lady Edelgard?”

“I have no intention of accepting him as a husband unless I can be sure it would be to our benefit,” she said. She couldn’t help being a little confused – Hubert seemed so resistant, but he was offering so little logic by way of objection. “We have always agreed that a political marriage might be necessary for our plans, and if we can come to some arrangement which integrates the Alliance into the Empire, a political match is a small price to pay for avoiding conflict with them.”

“I understand, but…” Hubert sighed. “Have you not always said that you felt sure the professor would return to us one day?”

Edelgard did believe that. She knew it seemed to illogical on the face of it, and she could not really give a _reason_ why she felt so strongly that Byleth must still live – it was like a part of her was connected to the professor, a phantom pulse that sometimes echoed in Edelgard’s head during quiet moments.

She just _knew_ somehow that their dearest teacher would return to them someday. But she owed it to her people – to the people of _all_ of Fódlan – not to live only for that wish.

“I can’t only wait for Byleth to come back and offer her expertise,” she said quietly. “As much as I wish she were here, if we have a plan which might change the course of this war, we have to act on it.”

“Yes, but…”

Whatever Hubert’s resolve was, it weakened. She watched it die in the hardening of his expression. Hubert had always been quite contrary like that; in order to deceive people, he let his face remain neutral and relaxed when he had some purpose in mind. Edelgard knew, of course, as she knew him better than anyone, however little he liked to tell her personally.

He sighed and bowed. “Very well, Lady Edelgard. I will have an offer drawn up for your approval immediately.”

“Thank you, Hubert. I appreciate your efforts.”

Even if she wished that he would see fit to confide in her more… perhaps he would tell her his real reservation another time.

*

“Huh? This is weird.”

Claude was more than happy to have an excuse to look up from decoding reports from his spies. “What’s up, Hils?”

“Ugh, I told you not to call me that.” She shook her head, but it wasn’t as funny to tease her since she got rid of the stupidly long pigtails. Now dear old Hilda’s hair, kept long but away from her face, was practically… well, practical. “Never mind, that only encourages you. Anyway, we received a diplomatic missive from the Empire.”

“A diplomatic missive… Wonder what it’s about.”

As the Alliance and the Empire were not officially at war, there was in theory nothing wrong with this. House Gloucester received diplomatic missives from the Empire all the time; private ones, as was their right as one of the five major houses in the Alliance. Claude hadn’t even interfered with most of it, as it wasn’t worth pissing off the other houses by violating their rights.

To have the Empire send one to _him,_ though, made him pretty curious.

Hilda’s eyebrow twitched. “Have you considered _opening_ it?”

“In a minute.” He knew he’d left his riding gloves in the drawers of this desk somewhere… “There might be a contact poison soaked into the paper.”

There was a quiet _slap_ of parchment hitting the floor. He glanced up with confusion to find the gloveless Hilda giving him a disgusted look. “You _what?_ ”

“Oh, don’t you worry about it,” Claude said. “The contact poison wouldn’t be placed on the envelope – makes the scheme a bit obvious, you know, if everyone who touched it before me dropped dead suddenly.”

“And what if I’d decided to open it by myself?!” She sighed, ignoring that of course she should never open Claude’s correspondence without his leave, since she’d already been doing for the past four years and now would be a bad time to start complaining. “Honestly, Claude, I’m not one to lecture anybody about responsibility, but you really have to warn people about these things.”

The way she maintained this belief that she was a totally irresponsible person with no authority whilst being his right hand in Dedriu was kind of adorable. The fact that everyone else _fell_ for it just made it admirable, too.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. But in seriousness, Hubert’s people haven’t killed anyone that way for several years. Since before the war.” He’d only traced that death to Vestra after the battle of Garreg Mach, of course, or he would’ve been more prepared to meet Edelgard in battle. “Maybe he thinks it undermines the Emperor’s power to use such underhanded tactics now that she’s officially ascended. It’s better safe than sorry in my case, though, don’t you think?”

“Uh, and in _mine,_ ” Hilda said, but the venom had gone out of her voice and he knew she was just complaining for the fun of it now. She only proved his point when she picked the letter back up again and dropped it onto his desk. “Just open the thing, I want to know what it says!”

Claude finally found the gloves and made a show of slowly pulling them over his hands, making Hilda sigh. But he was equally curious as to what had prompted the Empire to write to him, so it wasn’t long before he’d torn it from the envelope and begun to read it.

Then he read it again.

And again.

_Okay… well played, Edelgard, I have to admit that I didn’t see that coming._

“What does it say?” Hilda demanded.

Claude turned it over to her to see for herself. “It’s not poisoned,” he assured her. Oh no, the Emperor was far more ambitious than that.

“Hey, this is in Edelgard’s handwriting.” Hilda frowned. Of course she would know that sort of thing. “She wrote to you personally…”

Claude watched with amusement as her eyes grew wider and wider until they were nearly ready to pop out of her head. “It’s a very interesting proposal, huh?”

“It’s a _very literal_ proposal, Claude!” She groaned. “Goddess, why would she want to marry you?”

He gave a fake gasp as though wounded. “You could sound a _little_ less surprised.”

“That’s not what I mean!” Hilda said snippily. “Although, yes, I was sure she was head over heels for that Professor Byleth… that’s beside the point! Why would she offer you her hand in marriage when she knows you won’t accept?”

“On the contrary, I absolutely have to accept,” Claude said. “Or at least look like I’m seriously considering it.”

“What.”

“Don’t you see what an opportunity this is?” Hilda normally had an excellent instinct for these things, so he suspected she might have stopped reading after she got to the offer of marriage. “She’d even offered for the negotiations to be conducted _in person._ She’s practically inviting us to place a spy in her upper echelons. It’s brilliant.”

Hilda groaned. “Not only are you going to accept, but _you_ want to negotiate with her directly?” He watched her eyes flicker as she scanned her paper, and her exasperation changed to a concerned frown. “She wants for your negotiator to come to Enbarr… Claude, this is really dangerous. And who’s going to take care of things here if you go?”

“Well, you would, obviously,” he replied, ignoring her squawk of protest. “But I don’t think it will be as dangerous as all that. Enbarr is the centre of Edelgard’s power, especially as she’s had all these years to remove those opposed to her. Knowing that my death would certainly mean the Alliance going to war with the Empire – even Lord Gloucester wouldn’t stand for that insult – it will be in her best interests to have me protected even more carefully than any representative I might have chosen.”

“Lord Gloucester hates you with a passion.”

“Yeah, but he also wants to be the next leader of the Alliance territories,” Claude said, “and not feel like he could be bumped off whenever it was convenient.”

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Why do you have an answer for everything?” she asked, her voice muffled. “I’m going to end up going along with this madness, too…”

Claude grinned. “That’s the spirit!”

Hilda’s posture relaxed suddenly, and she emerged from her hands with a smile that sent shivers down his spine. “Well, it’s not all bad. I have to see you run the idea past Judith first.”

His smile faded. _Uh… shit._

“I’m sure I can convince her,” he said out loud. _You know… eventually._

“Maybe, but she’ll want to beat the crap out of you to ‘test your will’ first.” Hilda gave him a bright and innocent look. “And I’ll be there to witness the whole thing – as your support, of course!”

*

Judith’s response was predictably negative and loud, but she felt better about it after sparring with Claude and leaving a few bruises. ‘Every one is a lesson,’ she told him, ‘on how to do better next time. And I’ll need to beat even more lessons into your head if you insist on going there alone.’

_Yes. Far too much like Mother._

Claude’s first instinct was to go alone to the Empire and he stuck stubbornly to the idea through legions of objections and a slow exchange of letters as the negotiations progressed. He didn’t want to have to worry about keeping any allies abreast of his plans, which could change rapidly, or, well… in an absolute worst case scenario, no need to have more people aboard the sinking ship, right?

Going in person also had advantages. Observations even from trusted confidants couldn’t beat getting your own first-hand impressions. On top of that, Edelgard would be forced to offer a political hostage of roughly equal value – and the only fitting candidate was her second-in-command and spymaster, Hubert von Vestra. Anything else would be a grave insult. Claude, specifically, would be highly insulted and probably cry.

Separating Edelgard from her man in the shadows really opened up possibilities for him, snooping in on places and people he shouldn’t. Maybe he would even get the chance to have some real conversations with the lady herself and trick her into spilling a little more than she intended if he was especially clever. And there was the opportunity to put a certain spin on it…

Claude thought it was a decent plan, all told, and with the new month dawning, the time fast approached for him to put it into action.

*

The trip to Garreg Mach was tense – not as Edelgard would have wished it, since she did not expect to see Hubert or Dorothea for several months.

“I don’t like this,” Hubert muttered.

If he wanted to raise a sincere objection, he would have done so before they were less than a mile from Garreg Mach. The familiar countryside sent a painful stab of nostalgia through Edelgard’s heart. She couldn’t put into words how much she missed those peaceful days—lessons with the professor, spending time with classmates in the dining hall, being able to feel like she had no worries beyond their next assignment…

One day, she would restore Garreg Mach to its former glory. Let students of the future have the happy, uneventful schooling that she and the others had not. _Not that I have anyone to blame but myself._

“Lady Edelgard?”

Hubert’s voice roused her from her thoughts. She blinked. “I’m sorry, Hubert, I was… distracted. Did you say something?”

“No. You merely seemed uncomfortable.”

Edelgard turned her gaze out of the window again. Despite the stark trees and the patches of snow blanketing the land, the scenery was still beautiful. It seemed nearly untouched. She could almost believe a battle had never taken place here at all. “I was just thinking about when we were students here. I miss it, I suppose.”

“It wasn’t an unpleasant time,” Hubert admitted. “But what you are doing now is more important, Lady Edelgard. For the future of Fódlan.”

“I know.” She did know, and yet… the harsh necessities were difficult to bear at times.

Hubert seemed to consider the matter closed. After a short pause, he said, “Why would he ask to meet at Garreg Mach? He knows this is Empire territory; it would have made more sense to meet at the Bridge of Myrddin. Not that I am displeased, as it is much safer for you Majesty, but I cannot fathom what he is thinking.”

“Maybe it was simply more convenient,” Edelgard replied. “If you spend so much of your energy analysing every single decision Claude makes, you’ll drive yourself mad.”

“But there must be a _reason,_ ” Hubert insisted.

Edelgard raised an eyebrow. “And if you’ll remember, I have an order for you to treat this as a chance to rest. You’ve been working yourself too hard.”

“I do what I must to best serve you, your Majesty.”

She resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. Hubert was an invaluable ally, who had stood by her through everything… and yet sometimes it was like trying to reason with the walls of Garreg Mach. “Well, now you must _rest._ ”

Hubert made a disgruntled noise and did not reply. Edelgard doubted that she’d really gotten through to him, but he wouldn’t be able to get up to anything _too strenuous_ whilst in Dedriu.

…She hoped.

The rest of the journey was spent in quiet contemplation. When the carriage drew to a halt, Edelgard immediately recognised the flag of House Riegan, as well as House Daphnel. Hm. Not House Goneril, though… perhaps Hilda had remained in Dedriu. Their information said that Claude had been relying on her recently, so it wasn’t likely she had been shut out altogether. They seemed to have become quite close…

And his friendship with the Hero of Daphnel was already well known.

“Your Majesty,” Lady Judith said, extending a scarred hand to help Edelgard down the carriage steps.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dorothea from the second carriage waving away some guards who looked like they wanted to intervene. She was always quick to appreciate the symbolic importance of gestures such as this. Maybe the joke she’d made about the Mittelfrank Opera Company preparing her for politics wasn’t so far off.

Edelgard accepted Judith’s hand with a nod of recognition. “Thank you, Lady Judith.”

As her feet hit the ground, Judith let go. “Took a look around while we were waiting for you,” she said curtly. “Your men pass muster, I suppose.”

Edelgard couldn’t exactly blame her for her caution, or the near hostility. “I’m glad to hear everything met with your satisfaction,” she demurred. “My men will be pleased to hear such praise from the Hero of Daphnel.”

“Hmph.” If Judith was mollified by the compliment, she didn’t show it. “I would speak with Duke Riegan before the two of you make the final arrangements. If your Majesty would not mind waiting a few more moments?”

Edelgard inclined her head. As the party making the offer of alliance and marriage in the first place, it behoved her to be accommodating. A small gesture, but the impact of a good impression was not to be undervalued. “Of course. Send a message when the duke is ready to receive us. In the meantime, I will speak with the commander here.”

Judith gave a shallow bow and walked away without further comment.

“She ought to treat you with more respect,” came Hubert’s voice at her shoulder.

Edelgard sighed. “She has no reason to. And plenty of reason to be nervous about meeting here.”

“She should raise that with the duke, then.”

Hubert was right, as much as she wished him not to drive himself mad over it. It _was_ an odd choice to meet here. Even as equals at Garreg Mach, she had never pretended to understand Claude’s character. Maybe she would learn more about him and make sense of his decisions during their ‘discussions’ in Enbarr. At the very least, she was sure he must have some reason behind it. Claude was certainly not stupid.

Rapid footsteps signalled Dorothea’s arrival. She linked her arm through Edelgard’s with an easy smile, ignoring Hubert’s frown. “So that was the Hero of Daphnel, huh? She’s more beautiful than the stories say. I was expecting a soldier through and through, but she has a certain elegance about her as well, doesn’t she?”

“I suppose her reputation is quite intimidating,” Edelgard replied. “Perhaps that causes people to dwell more on her exploits than her person.”

“At least I can look forward to correcting this dreadful oversight.” Dorothea laughed. “And look forward to getting to know the lady herself.”

“You truly know no fear,” Hubert said dryly. “ _Do_ remember that we have an actual purpose in being in Dedriu beyond flirting.”

Dorothea waved his objection away. He followed behind them as Edelgard lead the way towards Commander Randolph, whilst Dorothea continued, “I wonder if Claude is still as handsome as he was during our Academy days. If he is, I’ll be quite jealous, Edie.”

Edelgard smiled. “That’s not the point, but…”

Dorothea’s eyes glittered with mirth. “But a nice bonus, right?”

She effortlessly kept up a light conversation until the commander came out to greet them. He saluted smartly. “Your Majesty!” He bowed to Hubert and Dorothea. “My lord, my lady.”

“At ease,” Edelgard said. She quite liked Randolph. Although he had no blood relation to Caspar, he struck her as a similar soul… optimistic. And, of course, he was as talented a soldier and military commander as any of House Bergliez. “Anything to report, Commander? Has there been any disturbances? Signs of intrusion by the Kingdom or the Knights of Seiros?”

“Nothing of the kind, Your Majesty,” Randolph said. “And I have made sure to double the patrols as you suggested.”

It was what their scouts had reported, but hearing it directly still gave Edelgard a sense of relief. “I’m sure you have been extremely vigilant. Even the Hero of Daphnel found it in her to praise your arrangements here.”

Despite his attempt at seriousness, Randolph’s face lit up at the compliment. “She did?!” He cleared his throat. “Er… of course, I will find time to thank her for this kindness before the party from the Leicester Alliance leaves, Your Majesty. And thank you for conveying Lady Judith’s words.”

“Is there anything else?”

“If you have time to spare, Your Majesty, I’m sure the troops would be gladdened to hear from you in person.”

“Of course,” Edelgard said. “It is the least I can do for all their efforts.”

Such ‘meet and greets’, as Dorothea called them, had always been exhausting for Edelgard, but she made herself speak to every soldier with kindness and a smile. It really was the very least she could do. Their enthusiasm was overwhelming, and she couldn’t help wincing internally as they heaped praise on her. It felt quite unearned.

Dorothea’s presence was a blessing. Her warmth – metaphorical and literal – at Edelgard’s shoulder helped her feel more at ease, and she was able to chip in with comments when Edelgard struggled to find something to say.

Still, it was something of a relief when the messenger came from the Alliance party and she was called away. “Thank you for your help,” she made sure to say to Dorothea under her breath.

“Any time, Edie!”

Edelgard’s thanks were sincere, but it still felt hollow when the closeness was partially for show. Not that she didn’t think of Dorothea as a friend, or found shows of closeness unwelcome, but… oh, there was always another layer to it. Despite her many talents and her own fame, Dorothea had little apparent value as a hostage to the Empire’s good will unless she was seen to be a close personal friend of Edelgard’s.

She tried to put those thoughts aside for now. She would need her wits about her for the meeting with Claude and Judith.

The Alliance messenger led them to the old cathedral, which was little used by the troops in the area and the closest thing to a private space Edelgard had been able to provide. She was embarrassed by the poor state of repair. _I wonder if we can spare some resources to begin fixing it up? Regardless of how it’s been used by the Church, it’s still a beautiful building, important to the history of Fódlan._

Edelgard was a little too focused on trying to work out if the structural integrity of the building had been compromised, because it didn’t full register that they were in the presence of Duke Riegan until Dorothea whispered, “Ooh, _damn._ ”

Edelgard blinked and found herself looking at Claude Riegan for the first time in five years.

He reacted with a broad smile. “Hello, Edelgard. You’ve certainly grown easy on the eyes.”

Compliments. _Flirting._ There was a certain amount of artistry to it which Edelgard had never grasped. At least on this occasion she couldn’t go wrong with being honest. Claude wasn’t _so_ different. His hair fell in the same waves of russet-brown, the sun-kissed skin still made a stunning contrast to those bright green eyes… yes, he was as good looking as he’d ever been. “You look very handsome yourself, Claude. You look… mature. It suits you.”

“I miss the braid,” Dorothea whispered.

Edelgard found that she rather preferred him without it. The sideburns—the missing braid—made him him seem less boyish. He looked like somebody one might rely on.

“How delightful to see you after all these years,” Claude said. “We never did spend much time together at the Academy, did we?”

Her heart sank. The pleasantries were over already. _And whose fault was that?_ he must be insinuating. Not entirely hers, she felt. Claude had very carefully kept everyone at arm’s length. Still, standing in the ruins _she_ had made, it was hard to hold this recalcitrance against him. Could he really come to see eye to eye with her? She had vowed to try, but…

“I’d love to catch up,” he continued, “but I think Judith is getting a little antsy… besides, we’ll have time for that in Enbarr, won’t we?”

He said it in the same light and lyrical manner, but still managed to make it sound vaguely threatening.

_I hope I don’t regret this…_


	2. First Steps

Hubert had been against this idea from the start, and meeting Claude in person only strengthened his belief. He practically oozed insincerity.

…He had not done his best for Her Majesty, being unable to convince her to abandon the idea. ‘Claude is untrustworthy’ was not a compelling enough reason, it seemed. Perhaps when she saw _how_ untrustworthy…

Her Majesty laughed at something Claude said. Hubert hadn’t heard it, but he recognised the laugh as a genuine one, not the false chuckle she used whilst tolerating the nobles at court.

“Hubert, you have to relax,” Dorothea hissed. She stood barely an arm’s width away, but she spoke in such an undertone that Hubert had to strain to hear her. “People are going to think you’re about to assassinate Claude if you keep glaring at him like that.”

“I am not planning anything of the sort,” Hubert replied. That would be a terrible thing to do at this juncture. And right in the open! Dorothea ought to know him better. “I am only concerned that Lady Edelgard may be letting her guard down—”

Dorothea frowned. “Claude is funny and personable; she’s just showing her honest reactions. They’re supposed to be getting _married._ She can’t just give him the stoic Emperor treatment.”

Hubert understood the logic – if Claude made a personal connection to Edelgard, he would be more likely to become their genuine ally, and all the advantages that entailed.

_If._ Claude, he was confident, would do no such thing. As an outsider with little known of him, Hubert had naturally observed Claude carefully at the Academy. He had learned little concrete information precisely _because_ Clause did not share—did not show true openness—with anyone. Every move he made was guarded, every word he spoke calculated.

Hubert had great faith in Her Majesty, but he found it difficult to believe the possibility of her exposing a chink in Claude’s armour was worth the risk of inviting such a duplicitous individual to the capital.

And… he worried that Lady Edelgard would trap herself in an agreement she would later regret making. If the professor returned…

Dorothea sighed. “At least stop the glaring.”

Well, if she thought it was _so_ offensive…

Hubert folded his arms and made an effort to direct his attention elsewhere. He ought, perhaps, to take more interest in the exchange, as it concerned a potential risk to his own life, but he had already given Her Majesty as much advice as she would heed, and now his only role left was to serve her interests and go where she directed him.

After all this time, Hubert had… not inconsiderable faith in the other Black Eagles. They would do their utmost for Lady Edelgard. But he could not help the niggling fear that sending himself away would be a mistake – that something might befall her and he would not be there to stop it.

“It will be fine, Hubert,” Dorothea said. “Don’t worry so much.”

He couldn’t work out what tell of his emotional state she’d identified and narrowed his eyes at her.

She gave him quite a bright, innocent smile in return.

…Some of the Black Eagles had begun to read him rather well. It was uncanny and, to be frank, disconcerting. Hubert might have learnt to trust them, but he had no desire to be their friend or to be read like an open book.

“So it’s settled, then!” Claude declared, clapping his hands together in quite a theatrical manner. “We’ll arrange another meeting at Garreg Mach three months from now and revisit the arrangement. Until then, I look forward to you showing me the wonders of the Empire, Edelgard.”

“I have confidence they will impress,” Her Majesty replied, rising from her seat. “I trust that Hubert and Dorothea will have an equally enjoyable time in Dedriu. I hope their magical expertise will prove useful to you.”

“I also hear Dorothea is a wonderful singer.” Claude grinned. “Maybe she can teach Judith some tricks? To hear her sing after a night on the town would kill lesser men.”

So would the glare Lady Judith was sending his way. Hubert didn’t doubt that in other circumstances, she would have outright protested, but she seemed to wish to defer to the Duke’s authority in a formal meeting. Her manner was stiff when she said, “If all is concluded, we should make our preparations to leave.”

Claude’s close relationship with the Hero of Daphnel was one of the few things anyone could say about him – after all, she had introduced him to the former Duke, his grandfather. Why she’d taken such a shine to a mysterious prodigal son of House Riegan remained a mystery.

Maybe it was something Hubert would be able to unravel during their time in Dedriu. She must know _something_ of where Claude had come from.

“Ah, of course,” Lady Edelgard said. “It is a long journey for all of us.”

Judith turned to Lady Edelgard with a more in-character flintiness and added, “I am entrusting you with the Duke’s safety. See to it that my trust is not misplaced.”

“I shall guard him with my very life,” Lady Edelgard said, quite serious.

Hubert twitched. _Lady Edelgard, please do not endanger your own person for **this** man._

“In return, I naturally expect that Dorothea and my Minister of the Imperial Household will come to no harm,” Lady Edelgard continued. “Although I’m sure you’ve taken all necessary precautions.”

“And then some,” Claude said. He winked and nudged her, making her blink in surprise and then offer him a tight smile.

Hubert tried to make his hands look less like they were grasping for a weapon.

“Come on, we should say our goodbyes to Edie,” Dorothea said. “Of course I’ll send letters as often as I can, but it’s not the same as being able to see each other in person.”

This time, Edelgard gave a more genuine, amused smile. “I’m sure you’ll survive – it is not as though you are going away forever.”

A lot could happen in three months. Hubert had made the security arrangements in Enbarr as safe as he could, but without being there in person…

Something of his concern must have been noticeable to Lady Edelgard, because she sighed upon seeing him. “I promise all will be well, Hubert,” she said. “Do take this opportunity to rest yourself whilst you can.”

He bowed. “As you say, Your Majesty.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him for you, Edie,” Dorothea added.

“It would ease my mind if you could, of course, but you’re already doing me a great service simply by being here…”

Partly true and partly a show for Judith and the rest of the Alliance personnel. If their ruse held, it would do a lot to ease his concerns.

Hubert was forced to amend this thought when the time came to separate and Her Majesty began to walk away with the duke, their heads already bowed together in conversation, whilst Judith von Daphnel gestured towards the carriages bearing the banner of the Alliance houses. _It’s better than nothing, but I cannot help this deep unease… Lady Edelgard… be safe._

This thought occupied him until he and Dorothea were embroiled away in their own carriage and the slow swaying of the vehicle told him they were on the move.

“I didn’t take you for such a worrier.” Dorothea shook her head. “You know you left me to carry an entire conversation with Lady Judith by myself? It’s a good thing no one expected you to be friendly in the first place.”

“I still have my misgivings about the whole endeavour,” Hubert said. Being called ‘a worrier’ implied that he was fretting over nothing. The risks to Lady Edelgard’s life were all too real.

“Well, it’s a bit late to voice them now, isn’t it?” she replied dryly. “Let’s just… concentrate on what we’re supposed to be doing.”

She was right in this respect, of course. If anything did happen to Edelgard, he would be too far away to prevent it… just like the last time. It was like nothing had changed at all.

“You’re supposed to be the expert on this occasion,” Hubert said. “What would be your first point of action when we enter the city?”

*

Edelgard would have dearly loved some time to herself before being thrown into a long journey in an intimate space with Claude von Riegan, but her gentle suggestions that he might have been tired from his own journey and want to be alone for the first leg of the journey had been brushed aside.

So she found herself sitting directly opposite a grinning Claude, their knees virtually touching, trying not to look too much like a cornered animal.

“Edelgard—” Claude paused. Or made a show of pausing? Everything he did seemed quite smooth and natural, but… “You agree there’s no need for the titles and all that formal nonsense in private, right?”

“Oh, of course,” she replied.

Claude smiled. She was reminded of something Byleth had mentioned in the Academy—Claude’s smile never reached his eyes. And Manuela’s only contribution about Claude’s character had been that ‘he trusted no one’.

_I wonder what made him that way…_

“So. Edelgard. You’ve been a busy bee these past years.”

“As have you,” she replied. She did not really want to begin a discussion about the war in a state of exhaustion. “I’d say you’ve taken to politics very well, considering you were totally unknown to House Riegan… hm, was it six years ago, now, that you were introduced yourself to your grandfather?”

“Seven years, give or take,” Claude corrected. The easygoing, light-hearted manner and smile hadn’t altered a bit, but he changed the direction of the conversation by saying, “But, you know, I’ve had good help. You rely on your old classmates a lot, huh? I notice they all have places in your Empire now… even Dorothea.”

Was _‘even’_ Dorothea supposed to mean something? Edelgard found him almost impossible to read—she couldn’t even tell if the reference to his mysterious past had disturbed him or he just felt like talking about something else. He’d been tight lipped about the subject in the past, but did it still bother him?

This was still a place where honesty was the best policy, though. She _was_ trying to win him over to her cause. “Well, they’re all extremely talented individuals. I would be foolish not to welcome their contributions. Especially Dorothea, who hasn’t had the advantages of the others.”

“Not had the advantages, huh.” Claude looked thoughtful. “I suppose that’s why you were impressed by my political talents, then? You don’t think I’ve had the same _advantages?_ ”

…Was he implying she was wrong to infer that? Ugh, she really could not read him at all. “I have no way of knowing,” Edelgard replied carefully, “but adapting to a new environment always presents a challenge.”

“How do you think I’ll fare in the Empire, then?”

“It is my aim to make it a place in which anyone can achieve their potential—in which anyone can be welcome,” she said, “so I hope it will not be long before you consider it a second home.”

“A second home?”

Was it her imagination, or did Claude look at her with slightly sharper eyes for a moment?

“You make it sound very inviting,” he said – he laughed suddenly. “But I suppose you would, wouldn’t you? Still, you’ve made me look forward to seeing the place for myself.”

Edelgard couldn’t help the proud smile that broke through her calm mien. “I have several things I’d like to show you!”

Many of the schemes were only trial runs on a small scale, things she hoped to expand further into Adrestia as time and the war allowed, and eventually the whole of Fódlan, if they proved successful. If she could show Claude that joining the Empire would be to the benefit of him _and_ his people… She didn’t know him well, but she couldn’t believe him to be callous and driven only by self-interest. If she…

Claude was smirking at her. “You’ve got things to show me, Edelgard?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Edelgard blinked at him. She felt her cheeks begin to redden as his meaning slowly dawned on her. “I—wha— _that is not what I meant!”_

He laughed. “I know, I know, but I couldn’t resist teasing you.”

Her whole face felt like it was burning. How humiliating, to be caught in such a… a rudimentary innuendo!

“Although—” Claude leaned further forward into the small space between them, and to her dismay, Edelgard found herself making a small squeak of surprise. “—if you look this cute when you’re flustered, I might have to do it more often!”

His eyes were a startling green up close—like emeralds. It was a fleeting, overly romantic thought, but it didn’t help Edelgard’s blush. She ducked her head, staring at her hands on her knees and willing them not to tense. “I’m glad _one_ of us finds it amusing.”

The carriage seemed unbearably stifling all of a sudden, but she didn’t want to look ridiculous by asking to stop for fresh air.

“Tell me about Dedriu,” she blurted, the first topic that sprang into her mind. Her tongue felt heavy. “I’ve never been there.”

“You haven’t?” Claude asked. His voice was pitched a little lower, almost like a purr, and seemed to reverberate around the small space, making Edelgard squirm with discomfort. “Perhaps I can show _you_ the sights sometime. It’s supposed to bode well for your marriage to honeymoon in Dedriu.”

“Is that so?” Edelgard had never heard of such a thing, but she didn’t want to sound like she was accusing him of lying… or of trying to get under her skin.

Of course there might be a honeymoon if they did get married—brief and perfunctory maybe—but she hadn’t really thought that far ahead. It seemed foolish—it _was_ foolish, no doubt—but the thought of being— _intimate_ with someone, someone she didn’t fully trust—

“What do you think?” Claude pressed—pressed further into the personal space, too. She found herself staring at his throat and didn’t dare raise her head even a little, because if she did, their noses would probably be touching. “If we do get married—wouldn’t that be the perfect time for you to see Derdriu?”

It seemed to Edelgard that keeping her breathing even and steady took up all of her concentration. She couldn’t think of a clever, deflective reply, something befitting of the Emperor of Adrestia (Dorothea would be disappointed), so she said the first thing that came into her head that wasn’t ‘go away’. “That sounds like it would be terribly boring for you.”

Claude let out a bark of laughter, sitting back in his seat. It was like a great weight slid off Edelgard’s shoulders and she breathed a sigh of relief before she managed to regain her composure.

“You aren’t the most romantic person, are you?” An amused grin still played about his face. “Although to tell the truth, you’re right. Once you’ve seen one stunning sunset and sunrise over the Derdriu canals, you’ve seen them all. I mean, it’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, it’s not _awful_ to see it again—but it’s never going to be as good as the first time.”

Now Edelgard was curious. Did he make the honeymoon comment just to get a rise out of her? “There must be something you enjoy about Derdriu other than the scenery.”

“I suppose, but it’s nothing that you can’t find elsewhere, if you’ve a mind.” Claude shrugged. “Good luck or no, it’s not where I’d choose to go on a honeymoon… although it might be worth it to show someone else the sights.” He winked.

Edelgard was not distracted; she was more interested in the little part of himself he’d revealed with his words. It was strange to her to think anyone had so little to say about their home city – she could talk for hours about Enbarr if given the chance. She supposed Claude wasn’t from Derdriu originally, though… maybe there was somewhere else he called home. Maybe he was thinking of that place right now.

Of course, he wouldn’t tell her if she asked, so instead she said, “Where _would_ you like to honeymoon, then? If you could go anywhere?”

“ _Anywhere?_ ” Claude tilted his head back, humming thoughtfully under his breath. “I guess if I could go to any places… I’d like to go to _all_ of them.”

Edelgard blinked. Not the response she’d been expected. “You’d like to see the world?”

“Wouldn’t you?” He smiled, but it was faint, his eyes distant. “Isn’t there something… interesting about seeing how other people lives? How they think, what they eat, what they believe?”

Small it might have been, but Edelgard thought it could be the first genuine smile she’d seen out of him. There was something boyish about it, a certain light in his eyes—like he was actually seeing, for that moment, the world he was talking about.

Edelgard had been raised strictly in accordance with the teachings of the Church of Seiros, of course, and therefore knew only what information about the outside world was considered ‘appropriate’ for the Emperor to know, mainly a study of Dagda’s military tactics. She’d expanded her knowledge a little since—since afterwards, learning what the Emperors knew of the Church and Seiros, the Immaculate One.

To her frustration, information about other cultures was still hard to come by in Fódlan, and much of it was _mis_ information more than anything else. It was something she must change if she was going to make peace with their neighbours. Edelgard was sure they had much to learn from them…

“Your silence fills me with great comfort,” Claude said dryly. “I haven’t offended by merely talking of other places, have I? Not _you_ of all people?”

“Oh – no, no,” Edelgard replied, her cheeks flushing for an entirely different reason this time. To get lost in thought around Hubert was one thing, but to do it in front of a guest was quite another. “I’m sorry, I—I was just thinking, I suppose. About how hard it is to learn anything of the world in Fódlan.”

“Ah. Because of the Church.” Claude’s humour had disappeared; he was grave-faced, which made him look more intimidating than a man of his handsome features should be.

And yet again they had made it onto the topic she wished to avoid. To be saying that, he couldn’t have a lot of love for the Church himself. Which made it all the more frustrating that he hadn’t responded to her manifesto those years ago. If he understood the Church was damaging Fódlan, why had he not joined her then? Maybe he couldn’t be moved to ally with her after all?

“Do you get sick from travel?” Claude asked innocently. “You’ve gone quiet all of a sudden. Not for the first time.”

He’d seen directly through her as well. Blast. “I am merely tired from the long journey,” she replied. Hubert would be furious if he was here, but it couldn’t hurt to reveal a little vulnerability to one she might marry… could it? “I’m afraid it’s making me easily distracted. My apologies.”

“Oh, not at all, I understand.” Claude relaxed back in his seat. “Let’s avoid difficult topics like the Church’s canon until tomorrow, hm?”

Edelgard couldn’t help but blink in surprise at this show of magnanimity. “That would probably be for the best,” she said carefully. “I fear I may not be able to properly attend to the complexities such a discussion would naturally entail.”

Claude smiled—a sly, slight thing that she very much wished to know the meaning of.

The conversation for the next few hours seemed more gentle, although some of the comments and questions from Claude were quietly prying—questioned about former classmates; Lysithea’s health; the progress of the war in general terms. None of it was information which Edelgard needed to keep to herself, yet she gave herself a headache with the care she took over her answers, wary of letting herself say more than she intended.

It was with some relief that the slowing of the carriage announced their arrival at Count Bergliez’s manor. They were to break here and continue the journey to Enbarr tomorrow. The count himself would remain at Fort Merceus, and so Edelgard looked forward to the peace she could expect after dinner, and a much needed night’s rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your interest so far! As always, all comments are welcome. Chapters after this should be every other Saturday, so the next one will be on the 23rd. I should be able to let you guys know in advance if there might be a delay :) I'd also like to give a big thank you to my beta [Dan_Francisco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dan_Francisco/pseuds/Dan_Francisco), without whom this project would never have got off the ground. Love ya <3


	3. Along the Road

Claude found himself waking from a fitful, restless sleep nonetheless looking forward to the day ahead. The journey in the carriage yesterday, although only a few hours, had proved more fruitful than he expected. Claude had guessed that the icy princess—sorry, Emperor, now—was discomforted by flirting or the idea of intimacy and wouldn’t have much experience in such matters, but it was always nice to be proved right.

_I should use it sparingly though. Don’t want to spook her too badly—or for the impact to wear thin._

She’d been happy enough to answer questions about their former classmates as well. Claude was pretty sure she hadn’t realised the value of the information, but maybe she simply expected him to find it all out soon anyway. She worried after Hubert’s health; he’d been kept busy and the internal state of the Empire might not be as stable as Edelgard wanted to pretend. Ferdinand she was on first name terms with, speaking warmly of his ‘work’; likely no in-roads of subversion there, to his disappointment. Bernadetta was coming out of her shell; Claude had read about the devastating effects of the Crest of Indech whilst at Garreg Mach, and it sounded like she might now have the courage to use it proactively, so she was one to watch—

And Lysithea.

Admittedly, it had been a genuine relief to hear she was doing well. Most of their interactions at the Academy had been Claude teasing her about her age and Lysithea, proving how utterly mature she was, stomping away to sulk about it. Despite his teasing, though, it had been hard not to admire her grit and talent, and she _had_ been under his guidance in battle for the bulk of the year, so he’d worried at hearing so little news of her during the war—to say nothing of Hilda, who would’ve been furious to hear that Lysithea had succumbed to her mysterious-but-terminal chronic fatigue issues… so there was a nice piece of news he could deliver, uncensored, in a letter.

That Lysithea and Edelgard were such close personal friends had been more of a surprise – he’d assumed her cooperation with the Empire was because of House Ordelia’s historic ties and current weakness. But there was no mistaking the warmth in Edelgard’s voice for anything _but_ a close and genuine friendship. How adorable! And maybe useful, but it would depend on how pleased Lysithea was to see him after all these years.

Clade could think more on that later. For today, his main concern would be getting to the bottom of what Edelgard was _really_ planning; for all the talk of corrupt nobles in her Manifesto, she still had three of those nobles who'd turned against her father in the Insurrection at her side, so Claude was sure there had to be more to it than that. There wasn’t much else to look forward to in the long journey by carriage. A wyvern could cover the distance in a fraction of the time, but Fódlan still thought of them only as beasts of war, like the Almyrans that rode them.

But there was a train of thought that, for now, would only be a distraction. So Claude put it away and plastered on a smile to meet Edelgard for breakfast.

Something even more interesting came up over breakfast, however. It was a simple, quiet affair of typical Fódlan foods – Edelgard didn’t seem to be much of a talker at mealtimes – until a servant entered the room, bowed, and said, “Forgive the interruption, Your Majesty, but the count is here and he insists on speaking to you at once.”

Edelgard’s eyes went briefly very wide before she blinked and regained her composure. Dropping a crust of bread, she swallowed and took a moment to check her clothes for crumbs. It reminded Claude a bit of when he would have to be tidied up as a young child to be presented to his father, except his caretakers were looking for ways to cover up bruises and scratches from the other children ‘playing rough’.

She let out a long breath, softly, so that Claude was pretty sure only he heard it, and said, “Please, send him in.”

His first full day in the Empire and Claude was already getting to meet the fabled war hero of Fódlan? Things proceeded apace.

When the Count walked in, though, Claude was a little disappointed. Unlike General Holst, who was tall and thickly muscled and very much lived up to the legends of him in Almyra, Bergliez was on the shorter side for a man; although stockily built, the tough image was undermined by a surprisingly boyish, clean-shaven face marred by few wrinkles. Only the greying hair at his temples and the crow’s feet by his eyes suggested Claude was looking at a veteran soldier in his fifties with a reputation that made even Nader wary of him.

“Your Majesty,” Bergliez said without preamble, “Lord Arundel recently came to inspect the troops at Fort Merceus.”

“Your uncle, Edelgard?” Claude asked. “I thought his days as regent were over.”

He thought Count Bergliez might not have noticed him, explaining why he addressed Edelgard then and there, but when the man’s icy blue eyes slid over to Claude, they contained only cold disdain rather than surprise. Now _that_ look was more like what Claude expected from Fódlan’s war hero.

“Of course, the Empire no longer needs a regent, but my uncle still assists in its running due to his experience,” Edelgard explained.

It sounded very reasonable, and she didn’t appear to be lying, but then why the fuss about merely inspecting the troops, hm? Maybe it was just a simple power play between the nobility?

“As Her Majesty says—” Bergliez’s voice was as frosty as the look in his eyes. “—Lord Arundel takes an _interest_ in many aspects of the Empire’s government, although his visit to Fort Merceus is misplaced concern, no doubt. He also came to ask after my opinion on offering hospitality to the leader of the Alliance.”

Claude raised his eyebrows. _Is he just seriously saying this in front of me? I’m not sure if I’m more impressed by the boldness or by the lack of care._

“I see…” Edelgard digested this with a neutral expression. Claude couldn’t tell what she took from it. “I assume that your opinion hasn’t changed since the last time we spoke?”

“No, which your lord uncle was surprised to hear.” Bergliez paused. His face was like a rock, unyielding, but Claude thought something significant was conveyed in the look he and Edelgard shared in that moment. “As it is, I hear he is invited to dine with Count Hevring and his wife shortly, so you need not worry about him insulting your guest as soon as he sets foot within the gates of Enbarr.”

Claude blinked. Since he and Lord Arundel had obviously disagreed over the matter, that implied that Count Bergliez was in favour of the marriage Edelgard proposed—or at least was willing to give it a chance—which was not what Claude would have surmised from his demeanour. _If this what he’s like when he’s **not** mad, I think I’m starting to understand that reputation of his…_

“That’s something of a relief, at least.” Edelgard turned to Claude and added, “I hope you will not take offence if my uncle is… blunt with you at times. We did have some disagreements over this matter, and—well, he is my uncle, after all, so he does not hesitate to give me his honest opinion.”

“Family, eh?” Claude had no family in Fódlan, but Judith certainly acted enough like an aunt that he understood what she was getting at. And if Claude’s parents were here… he could only _imagine_ how they’d interfere in these ‘marriage negotiations’. “If they didn’t take liberties, they wouldn’t be family.”

Edelgard laughed lightly at this, and Count Bergliez was… he wasn’t at ease, but some sort of tension in him seemed to have relaxed.

To Claude’s surprise, Edelgard rose from her seat and crossed the room to shake Count Bergliez’s hand. “I appreciate your coming – and, of course, for your generous hospitality in allowing us the use of your manse. I’m sure Duke Riegan has been equally appreciative.”

“I’ve wanted for nothing,” Claude put in. Of course, the only thing he had _really_ wanted was a comfortable bed and decent food, but that was the thing he’d found about military types – they knew what luxuries it was most important to spend your money on. Now folks like Count Gloucester, on the other hand…

“Will you not stay to breakfast with us?” Edelgard continued.

“No, I should be returning to Merceus.” Count Bergliez laid his other hand over their clasped ones, an almost grandfatherly gesture… Duke Oswald had only done it once with Claude, when formally acknowledging him as his heir at court. It was only for a brief moment before Bergliez let go, but for those few seconds, the Count’s expression softened slightly and only then did Claude see the striking resemblance between him and his son, Caspar. “Take care, Your Majesty.”

“I will. The same to you as well, Count Bergliez. And you must give my regards to your men at the fort.”

Bergliez bowed to her before giving Claude the briefest nod of acknowledgement. “Duke Riegan. I hope you will enjoy your stay in the Empire.”

“I’ll certainly try my best,” Claude replied.

The count frowned, but left the room and closed the door behind him without further comment.

Edelgard stood there for a second longer, but Claude couldn’t see her expression. When she returned to the table, her face held nothing except the neutral mask that he was already coming to think of as ‘the Emperor face’.

“My apologies for the interruption, Claude,” she said. “I supposed since he was nearby anyway, Count Bergliez thought it would be more efficient to simply tell me of my uncle’s doings than to write me a note. I will have to deliver a reprimand to him – even if my uncle was using it as a pretence to ask the count’s thoughts, to organise an inspection of his post, when he is the Minister for Military Affairs and my uncle is of equal standing with him, is quite insulting.”

Edelgard smiled a little ruefully as she told him this – he hadn’t seen much of that smile, yet, and the effect was quite charming. When he said she’d grown more beautiful over the years, he meant it. Even so, Claude wasn’t fooled by her explanation. It must have some underlying meaning more urgent than Count Bergliez being offended—something that would drive him to visit the Emperor in person with no warning. Something too sensitive to put in a letter? But then, Claude had been in the room for the whole conversation… which was another strange thing to consider.

His only answer to Edelgard was his own smile. He allowed her to change the topic to lighter matters, but he couldn’t stop churning the conversation over in his head.

_No question about it – the first thing I need to do when I get to Enbarr is to look into Lord Arundel._

*

The question of Lord Arundel had to be put aside when they got back into the carriage and started the next leg of the journey, however. Claude wanted to find out all that he could before he approached Edelgard about the matter directly. Luckily, Enbarr and the possibility of answers did not lie that far away. The road between the capital of Adrestia and Fort Merceus was scrupulously maintained, and the war had yet to touch this part of the Empire, making travel easy and probably safer than anywhere else in Fódlan.

The scenery was actually quite pleasant, fields of golden wheat lying outside his window. This was the idyllic breadbasket of the Empire, and one of the advantages of carriage travel over wyverns was the opportunity to enjoy the sights. Claude would ordinarily have liked to simply watch the view go by, but he had other curiosities to satisfy now.

“So,” he began, “we left off yesterday on a difficult topic.”

“The Church.” Edelgard smiled thinly. “From what you said yesterday, I think it’s fair for me to surmise you also disagree with some of the Church’s tenets?”

She’d latched onto that very quickly. Maybe she thought it would make them natural allies, help him trust her. But if there was one thing _Claude_ had learned from the succession disputes in Almyra, it was that the enemy of your enemy might be an ally – but never a _friend._ His half-siblings in Almyra would never support his claim to the throne, no matter what he promised them or how he helped them. That was why he’d been forced to come to Fódlan in the first place. If he was going to realise his dream, he needed the power of his mother’s bloodline.

“You could say that I think the Church has the wrong idea about some things,” he said.

Edelgard leaned forward a little. “Were _you_ raised within the Church of Seiros, Claude?”

He froze for a second. How did she make that leap so immediately? Was she on to him? He’d been surprised, although relieved, that no one in Fódlan had seemed to question his different skin tone, that his Crest seemed to make him ‘from Fódlan’ no matter what he looked like. “Well—” Claude scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t give him away, hoping the strain didn’t show through his smile. “A bit like Teach, I suppose you could say my education about the Church had some gaps.”

It was the truth, too, though not the whole truth of course. Mother still prayed to the goddess and she’d told Claude a little of the teachings of Seiros. He didn’t understand how she could still pray to a god who said that her husband and son were little more than beasts – abandoned by the Goddess, ‘forever barred from the sacred earth of Fódlan, where the Goddess once walked and delivered her blessings to her chosen people’, it said in the holy books.

Mother had never told him about that particular set of teachings. Maybe she thought Claude counted because he had a Crest, proof of the Goddess’s regard. But Father…

The comparison to Professor Byleth seemed to kill Edelgard’s interest. The sharp look in her eyes, to Claude’s relief, faded away. Instead, she looked thoughtful. After a moment, she said, “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Thank you for satisfying my curiosity, in any case. Whatever you believed, if you read my Manifesto, you must know what I discovered about the Church of Seiros.”

“Hm,” Claude said. It was so outlandish. If he hadn’t seen Rhea transform before his own eyes, he would never have believed it. Count Gloucester, he was sure, still only half-believed it despite his own son’s reassurances. Many people in the Alliance territories flat out refused to believe it. “Immortal beings controlling Fódlan for centuries…”

“For a _millenia_ ,” Edelgard said, her lips curling in a near snarl.

He watched the way she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, her entire body rising, and the fire in her eyes. Claude had wondered how she’d convinced so many people in the Empire of her claims, well before Rhea revealed himself; now he was seeing it. _Her._ You could see the conviction in every particle of her. This was her truth, she lived and breathed it.

This, at least in part, was the real Edelgard.

“My people have only amassed more proof since taking Garreg Mach,” she declared. Her voice was quiet but it had the same tone as though she was speaking to an amassed crowd. “Hundreds of books—histories confiscated, inventions and discoveries buried, documents from Church officials condemning innocents as heretics merely for speaking against the Church’s lies—the whole history of Fódlan has not been allowed to run naturally like a river, but diverted and changed over and over and over by the inhuman Rhea to serve her own agenda!”

She was rather like a preacher herself.

When Claude didn’t immediately respond, Edelgard seemed to shrink and fold in on herself a bit. “But of course you must have read that in my manifesto,” she said softly, keeping a straight face but exuding disappointment.

Now he just felt kinda mean. “I didn’t know about all the confiscated materials you’d found,” he said. “That _is_ very intriguing.”

“I had much of it brought to the library at Enbarr to be catalogued,” Edelgard replied. “I hope that some of the discoveries therein might still be able to provide some benefit to the people of Fódlan, though their authors may be long gone. You may have a look at them yourself, if you like, though some of the books are very delicate and only the caretakers are permitted to handle them.”

_You’re just handing me all that on a plate?_ Claude was torn between triumph and simply being too flabbergasted to speak. What if he discovered some kind of… of super weapon and turned it against her? For all her politicking, he was sure the Emperor would never last a minute in the Almyran court. You couldn’t afford to simply hand advantages like that to your rivals. She really was trying to make this alliance the real deal, wasn’t she? It was almost sad.

Certainly, Claude wasn’t going to turn down an offer like that, however exasperating her naivety was. “I would be _very_ interested in seeing that collection, Edelgard, thank you.” He paused. Was now the right time to press ahead with what he really wanted to know? Claude had expected to have to needle and prod until the conversation approached the question from a sideways angle, but she was being so open anyway, perhaps the best thing to do was simply to ask? “Doesn’t it beg the question, though, of what the purpose of it all was?”

Edelgard frowned slightly. “Pardon?”

“I mean, until I saw Rhea transform myself, I thought it must just be a strange lie… and you didn’t exactly provide much in the way of evidence.”

She hands, folded neatly in her lap, flexed. “I told the truth that has been passed down from Emperor to Emperor since the time of Wilhelm the first.”

Sensitive subject, clearly. “Of course. But you have to admit that it is a lot for people to accept on the strength of just your own word.”

The hands on her lap curled into fists, and for a moment Claude thought he had badly misstepped, but she surprised him by saying, “You’re right, I know. But… I was convinced that I had to try to explain myself, even if I doubted anyone would place their faith in me.”

The way she said ‘was convinced’ made him pause. Her own conviction, or had someone convinced _her?_ “And you said nothing of the Relics or Crests. How do they fit into all of this? If Rhea’s version of the Goddess is a tool she used to control Fódlan, what is their origin? Where did the Ten Elites come from?”

“Much of what I have pieced together has been from… second hand sources, trying to read between the lines of the Church’s version of history…” Edelgard admitted. “I know what I believe may have happened, but there is no real way of knowing.” She looked at him imploringly. “But that is part of the point, is it not? The Church of Seiros has lied for so long that the real truth is lost to us.”

“I suppose,” Claude said. “But doesn’t it strike you as strange? If Rhea really is an immortal being possessed of such power, why didn’t she simply conquer Fódlan and rule with an iron fist? Why hide behind this pretence of becoming Archbishop over and over again? Why found the Church at all?”

“I don’t know.” Edelgard shook her head. “Does it matter? Regardless of her reasons, Rhea has caused untold generations of suffering and has used her own position to prevent humanity from advancing. Her foul actions stand on their own.”

“That _is_ true,” he agreed, in a more subdued voice than he intended to use.

Somehow, it rankled more that there wasn’t a real Goddess who hated his kind; that it was just something Rhea _invented_. Without that, perhaps his mother wouldn’t have had to abandon her homeland to marry Father. Maybe she could have stayed in contact with her brother, the uncle Claude only knew through a handful of stories. Maybe she could have attended his funeral. Maybe Duke Oswald would have really looked upon him as a grandson, and not merely a _successor,_ someone to prevent House Gloucester’s ascension.

Maybe Tiana von Riegan would have built the bridge between Fódlan and Almyra by following her heart, and Claude would have somewhere to belong.

Why had Rhea done it?

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Claude asked. “Not knowing the truth?”

Edelgard paused, pursing her lips as though giving his question serious thought. “No,” she said. “Whatever the reasons for the choices made in the past, we must look to the future now. The why doesn’t matter, only the result, and what we can do to make things right.”

He couldn’t say that she was exactly wrong, and yet… Claude burned with curiosity. It seemed like there must be something huge they were all missing, and he hated secrets—at least the ones that he wasn’t in on. Besides… if the origins of Relics and Crests were not holy, but human… it was possible they could be recreated… If Claude could discover _that_ , he wouldn’t need any allies at all. He could make his _own_ Sword of the Creator! (Rest in peace, Teach.) He could accomplish everything he wanted under only his own power.

Edelgard had said her people were catalogu _ing_ the Church’s confiscated materials, which meant they weren’t completely finished. Perhaps Claude could get ahead of them somehow and find some hints in the books.

“Rediscovering buried secrets would be one way to start correcting things, that’s for sure,” Claude said, keeping his voice light and conversational. “What have you uncovered so far?”

*

Hilda’s first two days in Dedriu with Hubert and Dorothea had been, to say the least, stressful. First of all, there was this nonsense with Claude leaving her in charge. Thank goodness she had Ignatz to help her balance the books and Judith to glare and yell at people or she had no _idea_ how she would have managed to keep it all together whilst trying to keep Vampire von Vestra’s nose out of places it should not have been.

And Dorothea might have been a wonderfully polite and friendly guest, but _wow_ did she have a way of making a girl feel insecure about herself simply by existing. Who, by the Goddess, gave her permission to go and be so pretty? Half the men at court were already mooning over her instead of doing their damned jobs, and Dorothea was planning a party to celebrate being back in Dedriu in which she was going to sing for all the guests, so security in the capital was about to become a total _nightmare_ as everyone and his dog flocked to see the Mystical Songstress perform once more.

Did Hilda mention that she had to keep Hubert from learning anything he shouldn’t through all of this? _Ugh,_ what a total nightmare. It was lucky she’d overheard Dorothea address him as ‘Hubie’ when the two of them exited their carriage, because otherwise Hilda’s life would be totally devoid of joy. He did twitch so stupidly every single time. He must really hate that nickname.

“So, Hubie,” Hilda said, watching the muscles in his jaw clench as he gritted his teeth. Ah, it was the small things in life. “Tell me, have you been to Derdriu before?”

“No.”

Goddess, getting conversation out of him was like drawing blood from a stone. “Why not? I thought Empire nobles loved to travel and show off.”

Hubert gave her a look like she was something slimy he’d stepped on which, uh, _rude._ Metaphorically speaking, he should be really pleased to step on Hilda! “It is the duty of House Vestra to serve as bodyguards to the Adrestian Emperor. Not to… engage in frivolous sight-seeing.”

And look how well that worked out for ol’ Inoius IX. But Hilda thought it would probably be a bad idea to say that out loud. “Great! You’ve got a million generations of Vestras to enjoy the sights in honour of, then!”

There was a significant pause. Hubert turned his piercing, hawk-like gaze on her slowly, and for a moment she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, until a little voice at the back of her head went, ‘ha ha, Vampire von Vestra’ and then he was just being dramatic and the spell was broken.

“Excuse me?” he said.

Mm. He did have a dreamy voice, though. Rich and deep… Maybe he would be more tolerable if she could get him talking more, which was the opposite of most guys she spoke to. Novelty! “Well, you know, there are going to be _so_ many people coming and going tomorrow, and you really don’t seem like a people person.” He glowered at her, and she sent him back her most beaming smile, mainly out of spite. “So I thought it would be fun to tour the city, just the two of us!”

Hubert folded his arms across his chest when he realised his glower wasn’t working. “Won’t your guidance be required tomorrow?”

“Me? Pfft.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m so useless at this sort of thing! I’m the one parties get thrown _for_ , you know? I wouldn’t know where to start with organising one!”

Which was a damned lie, because no one ever threw Hilda the correct kind of parties. She’d had to organise her own birthday parties since the age of, like, thirteen. But after organising everything for Dorothea’s welcoming bash – a hastily put together plan to undercut any spies Mr. Vampire might try to sneak in as entertainment if Dorothea got to organise her _own_ thing – all that needed to be done tomorrow was to direct people and make sure things got done. Ignatz could handle that, and that man really needed more practise at yelling at people anyway.

As a bonus, it meant the wave of people coming to hear the Mystical Songstress would have to spend their money elsewhere, maybe take Dorothea out to dinner or shower her with gifts instead. So Hilda was also doing her bit to encourage economic activity. Goddess, she was so good.

She was a little worried when Hubert stared at her for a moment. For all his dramatic vampire looks, she felt like he was seeing right through her all of a sudden. Her smile faded a little under his intense gaze. Was it foolish to think she could outmanoeuvre Hubert von Vestra, the Emperor’s spymaster?

But… Claude had left her in charge. Claude had _trusted_ her, and he simply didn’t do that. Hilda had to pull through for him, no matter what.

“Very well then,” was all Hubert eventually said. “I am in your capable hands.”

Damn, he managed to make that sound like a threat. _She_ needed to learn how to do that!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think my interpretation of Count Bergliez is a bit... non-standard, so I feel the need to explain a little. I started thinking about Caspar's very black and white views of justice, which is a bit childish, but has to come from somewhere, right? And Count Bergliez is shown to have a certain amount of honour by sacrificing his own life to save his men. Coupled with the fact that I think Edelgard can't have _completely_ hidden her plans to reform the nobility from close allies, and I think there's potential for Bergliez to have a nobler streak than the likes of Aegir or Varley. Of course it's just my interpretation, but it's where I'm coming from anyway. I hope we'll see Bergliez again later on.
> 
> Hilda is such fun to write. As her little section near the end probably hinted, we're going to be switching to Derdriu for the next chapter. The main focus of this story is always going to be Edelgard and Claude, but I do have some plans for the side characters too, so we'll be occasionally taking breaks from the main narrative to see what they're up to. 
> 
> I've rambled on long enough now, oops. See you in two weeks! I'm always interested to hear your thoughts in the meantime.


	4. Master of the Craft

Hubert had never been interested in pointless pursuits. All his time was taken up with taking care of Lady Edelgard’s interests. Even as a child, much of his time had been taken up with study and practise for this inevitable future, when he was not serving Lady Edelgard directly, of course. Hubert was unfamiliar with the concept of doing something purely for the enjoyment of it, and so Hilda Goneril’s ‘must see’ tour of Derdriu was like living in a particularly absurd dream. He wasn’t sure if it might not actually be some kind of demented nightmare, or perhaps a peculiar form of torture – was Lady Goneril hoping that if she asked him enough inane questions about unimportant subjects, he would just break and tell her all of Her Majesty’s plans, simply for the sake of being able to talk about something _real?_

He wondered if it was possible to fake a sudden bout of sea sickness. Derdriu’s network of canals made travel by foot inconvenient, but Hubert felt that a boat, barely big enough for the two of them and its driver, was not a suitable replacement.

“Wow,” Lady Goneril was saying, “I can’t believe you weren’t impressed by our Leaning Tower. That’s one of the most famous sites in the city!”

“I believe I was sufficiently able to appreciate the novelty of an incompetently built structure not falling down,” Hubert replied dryly, “merely from hearing about it.”

Goneril pouted. She really pouted like a child instead of a grown woman. If Hubert were not well acquainted with Dorothea with this point, he would assume that the reports of her being Claude von Riegan’s right hand were exaggerated.

He was not making that mistake, but he did find her character somewhat… baffling.

“I suspected you would be hard to please.” She wagged her finger at him as though he was the child this time. “Don’t worry! I prepared for this. Next, we’re going to see the glassmaking district.”

Hearing this, Hubert was a little more interested despite his reservations. The glassmakers of Derdriu were reputed to be the masters of the art, and it was one of the few goods which Fódlan did export to other nations – although the Church only permitted this to be done in small quantities. His spies already reported that Claude was taking advantage of the Church’s newly limited authority to encourage increased trade between the Alliance and Almyra. Although many Alliance merchants were reluctant to trade with their traditional foes, the glass- and lace-making trades were already experiencing a boom as a result.

If this extra income could be secured for the Empire instead, there would be all the more for Lady Edelgard to make her desired changes for the people. Perhaps if Hubert could persuade some of the glassmakers that their expertise would be better appreciated elsewhere, something good would have come of this whole venture…

“I am looking forward to seeing true masters at work,” he said.

*

The glassmaking district was not the sort of place one would go for a casual visit—the air was thick with smoke, ash, and foul odours, and the temperature increase as they neared was quite palpable. Lady Goneril must have put some thought into what would impress him rather than mindlessly taking him to the most famous sites – although there had been enough of that, as well. Hubert could appreciate the artistry that had gone into the most famous Church in the Leicester Alliance, but only because of the skill of the artist and not the insipid scenes depicted.

Hubert had cause to reconsider Lady Goneril’s thoughtfulness when the ship docked and she immediately made a beeline for a vendor with a selection of beads and necklaces in a variety of colours. By the familiar way she greeted Hilda, she must be a frequent visitor. _Maybe she only chose things according to her own interests. Ah, well… this is still an improvement._

At a slower pace, Hubert followed Goneril to the stall, glancing at the other wares along the way. Naturally, glass was the main thing on show – from ornaments to fine plates and bowls, all richly decorated. There were several vendors selling the famous Derdriu clear glass, a technique which had yet to be replicated in the rest of Fódlan.

The vendor and Lady Goneril were already engaged in an animated discussion about the wares. It seemed like she was trying to arrange an order of some of the glass beads the vendor had produced. They did seem, even to his untrained eye, to be of high quality—even colouring and clear, from the smallest to the largest.

“Tiffany here is a real master,” Goneril found time to chirp at him. “The colours she gets out of these are brilliant! She still won’t tell me her secrets, though.”

“Lady Hilda, if I told you my secrets, what would happen to my best customer?” The vendor laughed. “Although the necklace you made for me personally was exquisite. With a few more of those, perhaps you could win me over.”

Goneril smiled. Unlike her warm, slight—dare Hubert say, vapid—smiles of earlier, there was a smug and satisfied air to this which he recognised. It was gone in an instant and replaced with a bright-eyed, cheerful tone for her reply. “Well, did you think any more about the offer I made? You could make a name for yourself in history!”

The vendor laughed again, but a bit more nervously this time. “I don’t know… this doesn’t seem the time… To be honest with you, Lady Hilda…”

“Not this again!” Goneril interrupted.

Hubert wasn’t sure what ‘offer’ Lady Goneril was referring too, but he thought it unlikely to be anything too subversive towards Her Majesty if it involved a glassmaker who chiefly dealt in trinkets. He was tempted to listen further anyway, to discover whatever hidden depths there might be to Hilda Goneril, but he was equally tempted to find some master craftsmen whom me might persuade to take up with Lady Edelgard. Whatever this vendor thought of Lady Goneril’s ‘offer’, she was clearly in a comfortable position with a reliable income from her and a long-established relationship—one that had become friendly, even. He was unlikely to make inroads here.

Instead, whilst Hilda was distracted, he crossed the square. Even considering the conditions, it was a busy place, full of merchants, nobles, and travellers alike. Most of the glassmakers likely did good business here. He wondered how much one would have to pay for a workshop directly overlooking the square. _A lot,_ he surmised. This was not where he was likely to find a dissatisfied master of the craft.

He slipped down a side alley – it was still quite busy, but the traffic was much less. Hubert immediately stood out as a noble with his fine clothes, which was not lost on the vendors hawking their wares, either, as they immediately tried to attract his attention.

All but one. The stall was placed at the very end of the alley and caught Hubert’s eye immediately because there were very few people going that way… mostly children. As he approached, curious, it became readily apparent why many of the buyers were giving the man a wide berth.

The vendor was broad-shouldered and if he stood, no doubt he would be nearly as tall as Hubert himself. His hair was pale, almost silver in colour, and his skin was dark.

He was from Duscur.

The man didn’t notice Hubert immediately, too intent on his work. Hubert watched in fascination as the man breathed a fire spell from his lips, heating the glass rod to the point where it glowed red, then bent and twisted each segment to form some sort of shape… The way the glass moved was entrancing, almost like manipulating water – Hubert could see why the small group of children surrounding the vendor were so enthused.

“What’s this one, Marro?”

“It is a deer?”

“No, stupid, the deer are made different! Anyway, it hasn’t got antlers.”

“You’re the stupid one! You should know Marro always does the antlers last.”

Indeed, there were a number of stags cast in different colours of glass—mainly yellow, orange, and brown—displayed on a thinning red cloth. Hubert supposed the deer must be a popular symbol in Leicester… perhaps this Marro sold them to travellers or children. The antlers did seem like thin and delicate work. He couldn’t help wondering how they could have been produced.

It did not appear the work with the glass rods was all Marro did. There was also a medium sized vase with an intriguing pattern in the glass, black and red. It took Hubert a minute to work out why it was so familiar until he realised that it was reminiscent of the markings of a dark magic spell—mire. _Glass is supposed to be too fragile to contain magic itself, but it looks too exact to merely be copied from seeing the spell performed…_

For years, agents of the Empire had tried to make magic traps from glass, bombs that could be thrown and prepared in advance. Enchantments could be woven in such a way as to tie them to an object, but no one had yet been able to craft glass strong enough to hold up against the power of magic spells

It was something worth inquiring about, at any rate, and by itself would have made the detour worth it, not withstanding the quality of the other work. The glass ornament was not a deer at all, when it was finished, but a bat—made from ash coloured glass and complete with spread wings. Marro melted some more glass to add finishing touches for its expression, as the children laughed and clapped. None of them seemed to mind that they hadn’t been able to guess the creature.

“Do not touch,” Marro told them, as he laid the bat aside. “It is still warm.”

“Marro, Marro, did you make the fish I asked yesterday?” one of the children asked. “For my papa? He is supposed to be coming home tomorrow!”

Marro nodded and reached for a crate under his stall. He withdrew a small, wrapped parcel from within and opened it to reveal a small blue fish. “It is done. Is it to your satisfaction?”

“Wow!” The child touched it gently and giggled. “It looks so amazing, Marro! Thank you!”

The child reached within her clothes for a small pouch and passed a handful silver coins over to Marro. Hubert raised his eyebrows. Although the fish was small, the delicate work involved should have meant it fetched a much steeper price, at least in his estimation.

“Is this enough?” the child asked.

“It is what we agreed,” Marro said, handing the glass fish over. He looked at Hubert for the first time, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Why have you come?”

“I was curious to see your wares,” Hubert answered readily.

Marro glanced down at his stall and then back to Hubert. “They are here,” he said.

Hubert wasn’t sure if the man was being sarcastic or not. It seemed to be a cultural trait not to waste words, but the almost total lack of expression wasn’t helping. “I have been very impressed by them.”

“Marro’s the best!” one of the children piped up quickly. Hubert didn’t see which one, as they all huddled slightly closer together when he turned his gaze on them.

 _I do forget how tall I must seem to a young child._ Still, they did not have to glare quite so suspiciously. “Marro certainly seems very talented,” Hubert said, which won him some approval with them. “Do you come here often?”

“Oh yes!” said the girl who had brought the fish. “Marro lets us ask for lots of different animals even if we aren’t going to buy them! It’s called _inspiration._ And he doesn’t chase us away like the others.”

“So long as we’re _careful_ ,” said another boy, enunciating his words very carefully. “You have to be careful around glass.”

The children all nodded very solemnly in unison. It was almost comical.

“You should not talk to strangers,” Marro said to them.

“But then how would we have gotten to know you?” another one of them asked.

He frowned slightly. “You should not have done that, either.”

“You’re so silly, Marro,” the child answered breezily.

Hubert watched in amusement as Marro grimaced when the rest of the children joined in with a chorus of agreement and effusive praise. At least he had _some_ loyal supporters. Still, Hubert doubted that a man of Duscur saw as much business as he deserved.

“I have something I would like to discuss with Marro,” Hubert said. “In private.” He saw the frowns gracing each small face, and hastily added, “I will buy you all a trinket as gratitude for doing me this favour.”

The possibility of actually _owning_ one of the ornaments themselves seemed to win them over, and for several minutes Hubert’s life was a blur of high-pitched, ‘May I get _this_ one, sir?’ and ‘Thank you, sir!’ It was charming in its own way, but Hubert was relieved when they had gone.

Marro regarded him with a stony expression, folding his arms. “You did not have to do that. I do not need pity.”

“Excellent, as you should not expect to receive any from me,” Hubert said. “It was entirely for my own convenience. I am not accustomed to managing young children.”

The man let out a grumble but did not challenge this. “What did you want to ask?”

“About this item—” Hubert’s fingers landed on the rim of the vase and he saw Marro tense. “How is it produced?”

“A craftsman cannot give away his tricks,” he replied, even more short than usual.

“I am not, of course, asking you to reveal trade secrets,” Hubert said. _Not at this juncture, anyway._ “But I recognise these markings. You used dark magic in making it, yes?”

There was a significant pause. “It was a tradition within my family,” Marro said eventually. “I have made many like it.”

 _Interesting._ Hubert did not know much about Duscur, but it stood to reason that they would have had their own craftsmen as well, and it certainly explained why a survivor might come to Derdriu, the glassmaking capital.

“Is that all?” Marro asked.

“Not quite. I have another request.”

Before Hubert could say anything further, however, there was a shout from the alley’s entrance. “There you are!”

Lady Goneril. Hubert sighed. Not at the most opportune time, but no matter. He could hardly have convinced the man to come to the Empire within the space of a day.

Heavy footsteps heralded her arrival at his side. “Hubie! Why on earth did you wander away so far? You could have been attacked by someone for all I knew!”

“Why on earth did you not pay more attention, then?” Hubert drawled. He had complete confidence in his own ability to protect himself and didn’t need to be watched by Lady Goneril. “Besides, I’ve discovered this man’s impressive work.”

She seemed to notice Marro for the first time. Hubert saw her bright expression falter as her lip curled for a brief moment.

She regained herself quickly, of course. Still, she could not—or did not attempt to—disguise an undertone of disdain in her voice when she said, “Oh, I see. Very… interesting.”

Hubert doubted she noticed the same thing he had about the vase, but she ought to have had a professional enough eye to see the quality in Marro’s other work.

“We should probably be moving on soon,” Goneril said, back to cheerful again—although it still seemed strained to Hubert’s ears. “We have to be back before too long or people will start to worry!”

“Very well,” Hubert said – begrudgingly, because he was sure that this sudden urgency to the schedule was less to do with the passage of time and more to do with Marro himself. “I will be just a moment.” He turned back to Marro. “I would like to commission you, if that is possible.”

Marro blinked, slowly, his gaze shifting from Goneril to Hubert. He surely couldn’t have missed her disdain, either. “I accept commissions,” he said carefully. “But I will require some of the fee to be paid up front.”

“I see. That is something that might have to be arranged at a later date, then. But let us see if what I had in mind is feasible.” Hubert breathed deeply, trying to recreate the image in his mind. The colours had been inspired by the bat he’d seen the man make. “Large. About a foot tall. An eagle. Dark colours, black, grey—”

“You are from the Empire,” Marro said, unfolding his arms briefly before folding them again, restless. “Marquis von Vestra.”

Hubert raised an eyebrow. “Indeed I am.”

“I heard of you coming to the city.” Marro paused for a moment. “I will need time to consider the logistics of this project. Come back in a week if you are serious about your request.”

He could not tell if this was a promising sign or not, but he was at least serious about providing Her Majesty with a sample of his work. “Of course,” Hubert said.

He did not get the chance to add anything more except a very brief expression of gratitude as Goneril grabbed his arm and, with surprising strength, began to drag him away. Hubert was so stunned that he didn’t think to attempt to shake her off until they reached the entrance to the alleyway. He was quite painfully aware that he was only able to do so because she allowed him to. He would need to remember that.

“Are you in _such_ a dreadful rush that you forgot your manners, Lady Hilda?” Hubert sneered, refusing to allow himself to betray any of the tension he felt.

“I’m supposed to be looking after you, you know,” she said, revealing real annoyance for the first time. “I can hardly do that if you insist on poking your nose into suspicious characters.”

“Ah, yes, how extremely _suspicious_ of a man to sell glass wares in the glassmakers district,” Hubert retorted dryly. “My mistake.”

She folded her arms, still frowning at him. “You know what I mean. There’s no way of knowing if people like that are safe or not. And you just up and told him that you were Marquis Vestra! What if he has accomplices? Not everyone in the Alliance is happy for you to be here, you know.”

Hardly something that Hubert was surprised by, but for her to admit to the disunity was a small moment of triumph, undermining Claude’s pretense at a united front. He filed it away for later, as she didn’t seem to realise what she had said just then.

“People from Duscur, you mean?” Hubert asked, with a raised eyebrow. “I hardly think a craftsman is going to pose a threat to _me._ ”

Hilda scowled, but some of the tension seemed to have left her. Her voice was closer to the natural, gentle way of speaking she’d been using earlier. “I’m sure your confidence in your abilities isn’t unfounded, but we promised Her Majesty we’d keep you safe, didn’t we? And right now, that job falls to me. I don’t have anything against this guy personally, but it _is_ known that people from Duscur tend to be more violent, so please, let’s not borrow trouble.” Her head drooped a little and she adopted a mournful tone, her arms dropping to her sides. “But you were right when you said this was my fault for being distracted… I should have been with you every step of the way, of course. Jewellery making is a passion of mine, you see. I really hope you can forgive me for getting too wrapped up in the wares.”

If Hubert trusted her as far as he could spit, it would’ve been a convincing performance. He raised an eyebrow, still unimpressed. “Maybe you should leave such _duties_ to someone more capable if you get distracted by the slightest thing.”

She scowled. “Excuse you! I screwed up, but I won’t accept that kind of criticism. This is really important to me, you know!”

He barely held back from rolling his eyes. “I don’t doubt, since you abandoned your duties for it.”

“Not all of us live and breathe _duty_ , you know.” She sighed. “Well, I suppose you wouldn’t understand since your whole life revolves around Her Majesty, but I have things I want to achieve outside of helping Claude.”

She said ‘revolves around Her Majesty’ with a distasteful tone, clearly intending it as an insult, but Hubert was far past being insulted by the opinions of dullards who had no understanding of Her Majesty’s ambition and character. “And your ambitions involve collecting an encyclopaedic selection of glass beads, do they?”

“Actually, yes.” Tossing her long hair over her shoulder, Goneril frowned at him. “If you must know, I’m trying to recruit Tiffany for an important project.”

“What kind of ‘project’ demands such skills?”

“An artisan school.” Lady Goneril gestured back towards the boat. “Not that I expect that it’s of much interest to you. We should be moving on. We have appointments to keep!”

“Do we?” Hubert replied smoothly, although his mind was suddenly racing with possibilities.

A school for artisans was actually an incredible idea. The major problem with any expansion of the arts of Fódlan at the current time was the amount of training an apprentice had to undergo to be considered a master of the craft, as certified by the relevant guild, was extraordinary. Her Majesty had already loosened the stranglehold the guilds held over certifications of masters in the crafts—a wartime measure mainly as a countermeasure to the fiercely protective surgeons’ guild, to have more trained for the war, but Hubert was already thinking ahead—but there was still the problem of training up a large number of new experts.

If even a few existing masters could be persuaded to set up in a specialist school, the training of a large number of students could be streamlined and within only a decade, the Empire would possess vastly more craftsmen, and their export potential would be equally increased…

It was such a simple, yet brilliant solution that he had trouble believing he had had to steal it from Hilda Goneril. Then again, in the Leicester Alliance, where the guilds often held more sway than minor noble houses, you would _need_ to have the support of a major noble family like House Goneril to even attempt it. Perhaps it helped that the proposal was coming from General Holst’s beloved younger sister. He was not a man that any in the Alliance wished to cross.

But with this goal of an artisanal school in mind, Marro presented even more of an opportunity. If a Duscuran had been certified by the Alliance’s glassmaking guild, Hubert could not imagine that they as jealously guarded his privileges and protected him as they did their native Alliance masters… perhaps that was why Marro’s price for the child had been well below the item’s real value… Regardless, the Empire under Her Majesty could offer a man like Marro much greater opportunities, and no doubt Lady Edelgard would be equally pleased by the opportunity to begin challenging the Church’s preaching of the distrustfulness of foreigners.

For such an opportunity, Hubert might even be able to persuade the man to trade the secret of his imprinting dark magic spells into the glass. If it could not be used to make a magic trap, it might at least be a step in the right direction.

Lady Goneril was already ushering the conversation past this bout of awkwardness, beginning to talk effusively of the famous Bridge of Rainbows very near to Derdriu’s old harbour, so-called because sometimes the light struck the windows in it just so…!

Hubert paid only a small amount of attention to these ramblings, and luckily Goneril did not seem to expect otherwise from him. At least this ‘sight-seeing’ trip would give him time to consider the idea further without being distracted by the goings-on in the Duke’s Palace… Hubert had feared that, in being so far separated from Lady Edelgard, he would be unable to help her and would be forced to languish uselessly until Claude gave up this pretence of entertaining her offer. But now he was blessed with an opportunity to further Lady Edelgard’s goals—no, to further her grand ambition for a changed Fódlan. Even if the inspiration for such an opportunity came from the enemy, Hubert could not be anything but grateful for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by my salt over the handling of the Duscur genocide. 
> 
> I also researched medieval Venetian glassmaking and then based Marro's technique on stuff I saw in a modern glassmaker's workshop in Wales. I'm sure magic makes up the difference. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
> 
> I'm super tired from travelling today, so I may have missed some typos. Let me know if you spot any and I will correct them ASAP!


	5. Familiar Faces

Making conversation with Edelgard was pleasant and could often be quite fruitful, but even Claude had to admit that after nearly a full day stuck with only her company, he was growing bored and many of the silences had become rather awkward. The rosy stone walls of Enbarr came as a welcome relief, even if – as Edelgard informed him – manoeuvring through the crowd would take quite a while.

He was both impressed and amused by the number of people who thronged the streets to gawk at the carriage. All smiles and cheers and the occasional scream of joy, which, quite charmingly, made Edelgard look embarrassed. Still, she waved and smiled at the crowds, which only encouraged the most enthusiastic.

“They’re happy for you to be home, huh?”

“I suppose they must be,” she muttered. She was still blushing at the attention. Her subjects wouldn’t be able to see it in the fading evening light, but Claude wondered if they would still be as impressed with her if they did know.

“Would they be as happy to see me?” he wondered.

Edelgard turned to look at him. “I hope so. I have tried to encourage people to think of it as a chance for greater cooperation between a people not far removed from us, a chance to reach understanding without bloodshed—but of course one cannot dictate opinions to anyone.”

He blinked at her. “You’ve been… talking to commoners about our potential marriage?”

“I have only been able to speak personally a few times, but I have also sent out proclamations with the bellmen amongst other things—news from the war and so on.” She waved again to the crowds out the window. “That has always been my preference, as opposed to the people making up their mind based on wild rumours flying about… though I don’t doubt there are plenty of those too, of course.”

_Interesting._ Claude had never considered using proclamations as a direct line of communication from the Emperor like that. It was far from traditional, from his understanding, but the whole concept was strange to him to begin with. To the best of his knowledge, no similar thing existed in Almyra. It was a good idea and he planned to introduce it if—when he became King. There was a greater degree of literacy in Almyra, so perhaps it wasn’t strictly _necessary,_ but he had used it as an excellent opportunity to plant agents amongst the crowds in Derdriu and steer public opinion as well as learn, without censorship, the way their minds were leaning.

Anyway, people loved an opportunity to gather and gossip, didn’t they?

Inspired, he too stuck his head out the window. The space wasn’t really meant for two and he could feel the heat from Edelgard’s cheeks against his own. He gave his best smile to the crowd and watched, amused, when the crowd swayed like a snake as people bent their heads together to whisper.

With such a reception, he could hardly be expected to resist giving them something to _really_ talk about.

He turned his head to murmur into Edelgard’s ear, his lips brushing against her skin. He felt her tense at the contact, but the heat from her cheeks signalled a blush even fiercer than before when he whispered, “Oh, how rude of me. I didn’t ask how it felt for _you_ to be at home again, did I?”

“ _Claude,_ ” she hissed through gritted teeth. “This is hardly… appropriate.”

Smiling, Claude withdrew but left a hand on her shoulder.

She didn’t remove it, but she watched him for a long moment out of the corner of her eye, still partially leaning out of the carriage window.

Claude smiled, a wide, sweeping grin that he was aware wouldn’t meet his eyes. _You didn’t think I’d make it easy for you, did you?_

She looked as though she were about to say something, but then she hesitated; after another moment, she shook her head, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I had forgotten how difficult you liked to make yourself,” she said. “I’d hoped you would have grown a better sense of humour.” She lifted her chin. “Never mind. As long as you’re serious when I show you what we’ve managed to accomplish in Enbarr, it doesn’t matter.”

The attempt to talk back to him was pretty cute. “Still confident that you can impress me, huh? I’m at your disposal whenever you’re ready to show off.”

“Look forward to it,” Edelgard replied.

Claude had to laugh at her tone of voice—like she was doing him a favour.

They made their way through the crowds eventually, arriving at the palace as the skies began to darken in earnest. The bite of the evening chill was not as severe in Enbarr, being situated on the southern coast of Fódlan. Once upon a time even this would have set Claude to shivering, but after years in Fódlan, it was merely pleasantly cool.

Edelgard herself led the way into the palace, using a fire spell to light their way—even though their escort all had torches. _Ha, to think that even the Emperor can’t resist showing off a little…_

Claude’s aptitude for magic was low, if not non-existent, so he was a little impressed as was no-doubt the intention. Strength, charisma, a Crest, smarts, an indisputable claim to her throne, and now magic? The Emperor Edelgard really did have it all. Claude, however, was an expert in making do with what was available to him, and he was sure to surprise her.

“We’ll have a simple supper and then ret—I expect you’ll wish to retire for the evening.”

Aw, she was growing wise to the openings! She learned fast!

*

Edelgard wished Claude a good night with a deep sense of relief at being free of him. This did not bode well for their hypothetical marriage. _Of course he’s distrustful,_ she told herself. _You earned this response. What did you expect?_

Still, the way he needled her had a bite to it that surprised her. She had tried not to look weak in response—not like in the carriage the previous day, which she cringed to think about now—but Edelgard didn’t know if anything she might show him, or do, could break past his walls.

She ought to go to bed now herself. Whilst she’d left everything in the capable hands of Ferdinand, Manuela, and Lysithea during her brief absence, there would still be a lot of work waiting for her in the morning. Instead, as the maid prepared her rooms for the evening, she said, “Excuse me, Gwyn—would you happen to know if Manuela has already retired for the evening?”

Gwyn paused in the middle of unfolding a long-sleeved nightgown. “I think she said she would be occupied writing replies to a few letters, Your Majesty.”

Oh yes, Manuela’s valuable and extensive network of contacts required a not inconsiderable amount of work to upkeep in its own right. It would be especially important now. Edelgard hesitated. Maybe it could wait until morning, but a little peace of mind…

“Would you ask her if she would be willing to speak with me for a short while? And then make sure you see yourself settled into bed, as well. We were already later than intended and I don’t wish to keep you up further. I can do everything else myself.”

Gwyn frowned, brushing grey hair behind her ears. “You just make sure you are not up too late yourself, Your Majesty.”

Edelgard returned her hard look with a faint smile. “I will do my best.”

Having served Edelgard since she was a young girl, and knowing very well her terrible habit of getting sidetracked by work or failing to return to bed after a nightmare, Gwyn sniffed in disapproval, but did not press further.

As Gwyn left, Edelgard occupied herself with letting down her hair and brushing it thoroughly, feeling a little of the tension of the day ease out of her with each stroke. More than anything else, being able to sit and brush her hair signalled that she was home.

Manuela arrived only a few minutes later, wearing a casual black gown which billowed as she strode into the room. “Edelgard! I was hoping you’d be back earlier and I could speak to you both, but—” She exhaled and relaxed into one of the chairs in Edelgard’s anteroom. “How was he?”

“He seems… well, I think. His usual self,” she replied.

“His usual self,” Manuela repeated, thinning her elegantly painted lips. “Hm. Did he do something that bothered you?”

Edelgard winced. “Is my need so obvious?”

“Only because I know you both quite well,” she said. “Or as well as anyone knows that boy, I suppose.”

“He…” Edelgard wasn’t sure how to explain the feeling of unease at being touched, the pretence of intimacy from someone she did not trust—how, even with no threats around whatsoever, it made her feel hunted. She hesitated. “It’s… his flirting—”

She saw Manuela’s lips twitch and she flushed. She knew it was foolish, but…

“He catches you off-guard?” Manuela asked.

“It’s more that I get the feeling he’s doing it on purpose, to—to unnerve me,” Edelgard explained. _And it’s working._

Manuela sat back in her chair. “He very well might me. Claude could never resist poking and prodding at things—and people.” She reached over and gently patted Edelgard’s hand and she forced herself not to pull it away. She didn’t normally mind with Manuela, but—today she felt out of sorts, thanks to Claude. “I know you aren’t used to it, being the Imperial Princess and then the Emperor. Claude probably guessed that too.”

Edelgard frowned. “You believe he’s testing me?”

“In a way.”

She found herself examining her hands in her lap, tracing the seams in the fabric of her gloves. Testing her by making her uncomfortable? What could be his purpose? What could he hope to discover? “Wouldn’t it make more sense to… ‘play nice’ with me, even if he doesn’t mean it?”

She had been musing aloud, mainly, but Manuela responded anyway. “Perhaps, but… The thing you must understand about Claude is that he trusts no one.”

“That’s what you said before.”

Manuela waved her hands expansively. “I mean to say that… sometimes I don’t think he trusts even himself. At Garreg Mach, I felt sorry for him, and outsider new to all the noble politics and such… I tried to be approachable.” She sighed. “Sometimes it seemed to work, and I felt like he was starting to warm up to me, but then… he wouldn’t ever become unpleasant, exactly, but he would say things that were meant to shock or cause offence, when I _knew_ he could be – and often was – more circumspect than that.”

Edelgard was more confused than ever. “You believe he was… trying to push you away? Where he might have made an ally or a friend?”

“More than that, I feel like he did it when he felt too relaxed. It’s hard to really say,” Manuela said, “but it’s what I think. I was sure it was the new environment and he’d grow out of it, but if he hasn’t…”

Whatever doubts the woman herself expressed, Edelgard knew Manuela’s intuition and ability to read people was not to be put aside so hastily. And she could readily understand the idea that Claude might sometimes doubt his own judgement, as she was sometimes plagued by her own doubts…

But then wouldn’t it make sense to have someone with he could rely on with him, here in Enbarr? Judith and Hilda seemed to have his trust—why not bring one of them to be a friend, an advisor? Edelgard would have been hard pressed to deny that request even if she wanted to.

_He trusts no one, not even himself… but then how does he…_

Edelgard shook her head. She’d never unravel the mysteries of his character at this late hour, that was for sure. “Thank you, Manuela, you’ve given me a lot to think about. And how have things been in my absence?”

“Oh no you don’t!” Manuela clucked her tongue. “You mustn’t start on Emperor business now. Leave that for tomorrow. Suffice to say that all has been well. You could afford to leave Ferdie in charge more often, you know.”

Edelgard did know. The temptation sometimes was overwhelming—to just take a day, a week, to laze about and eat sweets and pretend she had not a care in the world. But it seemed to be shirking responsibility. _She_ had started this war, this mess, and all the pressure and challenge and guilt it brought lay at her feet alone. It would be cowardly to pass it off to someone else simply so she could… pretend not to be the Emperor for a while.

Manuela must have known what her response would be without Edelgard even having to say anything, because she shook her head and sighed, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before standing. “At least make sure you get a good night’s rest, won’t you?”

“I’ll try,” Edelgard said, thinking of making the same promise to Gwyn not long ago. Hopefully, the long journey would have tired her out, and her rest would be uninterrupted by nightmares.

But the itching under her skin, the prickles at the back of her neck, as though being watched, suggested she might not be so lucky.

*

Claude had another fitful sleep and woke to the sound of a servant stoking the fire.

“My lord!” the man said, hastily bowing. “I’m so sorry to have disturbed you.”

“I’m a light sleeper.” Claude yawned, not purely for emphasis. “Maybe we can leave this kind of thing until later in the morning, huh? At least in my rooms. I promise I don’t need the fire.”

“Of course, my lord,” he replied. “I’ll make sure all the staff know…”

After that, Claude struggled to get back to sleep and eventually gave up entirely. Stupid mistake to make. He should have mentioned it, but he’d just forgotten—unforgivable carelessness now that he was officially in enemy territory. Edelgard was _not_ to be underestimated. He’d already made that mistake once and had to throw away all his existing plans.

Claude wondered what he would do with the extra hours of his day – nothing had been specifically arranged with Edelgard – but his thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. He opened it cautiously, but nothing could have prepared him for Professor Manuela to be waiting on the other side of it.

“Claude!” She gave him a beaming smile, bright and beautiful as always. “How wonderful to see you! It’s been such a long time.”

He couldn’t help but blink at her helplessly for a minute. How—what—why didn’t any of his spies _tell him—_

Gathering his thoughts, Claude managed to conjure a smile despite feeling uneasy. “Professor! You’re not quite the last person I expected to see here, but pretty close.”

Manuela laughed lightly. “Enbarr has always been home to me! I couldn’t resist being here. And someone has to keep an eye on our Emperor’s health.” The cheer dropped as she sighed. “She does work herself so hard…”

“The Emperor’s physician, huh?” Claude had always known his professor could come out on top of any situation, but he hadn’t realised just _how_ close to the top she’d managed to position herself this time. He expected better of his informants, but it seemed like they’d just overlooked her.

People tended to do that in Fódlan, overlook people in positions of subtle power. Claude didn’t understand it. Manuela might be a commoner with no Crest – but she was also quite independently wealthy thanks to her stint in opera and careful management of her funds; had managed to study and qualify as a physician at the same time as being a star songstress of the Mittelfrank Opera Company; was widely recognised by practitioners of faith magic as one of the best; had been in close proximity to the Archbishop, one of if not _the_ highest authorities in Fódlan, for several years; and in her capacity as a professor at Garreg Mach had developed ties to noble houses across the whole continent.

It would make for an almost terrifying list of accomplishments from a member of the nobility, never mind from someone who’d worked for it all under her own power. Anyone who dismissed her because of some bad personal habits and her desperation to find a partner was a fool. And Claude was _not_ a fool.

“Edelgard is going to be busy catching up on some work, so I thought it might be nice if we could take a walk together through the palace grounds,” Manuela said, readying her disarming smile again.

“That sounds great!” Claude replied. “I was just wondering what I’d be doing with my day, and it would be nice to catch up.”

It wasn’t really that nice, which he was worried showed in his gritted teeth. Those devoted to a goddess who called the people outside of Fódlan ‘beasts’ had always made Claude wary, and Manuela was more devout than most— _genuine_ devotion, unlike the lip service Lorenz paid for the sake of appearances.

But it also begged the question of what Manuela was doing at the side of Edelgard, who should be her mortal enemy for her actions against the Church of Seiros. A question Claude wouldn't mind getting an answer to. And if anyone would know the _who’s who_ of the Enbarr elite, it would be Professor Manuela for sure… If he wanted to know about Arundel, who better to ask?

_Ah… I always get myself into these situations by following my curiosity._

Manuela smiled and Claude, dutifully, offered her his arm.

The grounds were more extensive than Claude expected, considering it was situated right in the middle of the city—they passed through several open courtyards into an orchard, a meticulously maintained garden full of exotic and homely flowers both, and even a large pond with water lilies and reeds. It was all very picturesque, but Claude wasn’t sure how impressed he was supposed to be. The Alliance had a similar climate, if not slightly warmer, with winds from Almyra, but the landscape for the nobility was vastly different – there were no such grand, sweeping estates in the centre of power, in Derdriu.

Of course, Professor Manuela had an answer for everything. It didn’t take much prompting for her to begin regaling him with the history of the Royal Palace, how it had been built in the earliest days of the Empire and parts of it were some of the oldest buildings in Fódlan—known then and for centuries as _the_ Royal Palace, being the only seat of royalty on the whole continent.

She spoke of it with such pride. In Garreg Mach, it had been easy to forget that she’d been born in the Empire. It always seemed like such a distant thing to him—not even a pride in your _own_ ancestors, although the excessive veneration of those was just as strange—but a pride in the distant ancestor of someone who ruled over you, a pride in… what was the Empire, really? A collection of imagined borders and imagined connections of people so disparate from one another. To value something that was intangible… it seemed foolish to him.

Strange as it was, it gave Claude an opportunity to segue into a question on more useful matters. By the pond, in a wide open space which assured they were alone, might be the best chance he got. “Is that how Edelgard got so many of the nobles on side, reuniting the Empire? I didn’t think many of them would go in for her reforming zeal.”

Manuela laughed and gently smacked his arm. “You didn’t even let me ask about everyone before asking nosy questions, did you? But I suppose there will be another time for that.” The laugh faded slowly, leaving a slump in her shoulders. “I can’t deny that the reunification of Fódlan under the Adrestian Empire is something many of the nobles have desired for a long time. I’m sure that plays some part. Maybe they underestimate Edelgard because she’s still such a young woman. They think they can persuade her to be less radical.”

“A mistake, I take it?” Claude asked dryly.

Manuela’s smile was unlike her usual self—distant and satisfied rather than warm. “Edelgard’s resolve will never crumble,” she replied. “She could never be turned away from her goals from the likes of them.”

_What about the likes of me?_ he thought, quite stupidly as he’d never been able to persuade the likes of anyone, let alone Edelgard. But oh, the thought of having the power of the Adrestian Empire turned towards his own goals…

“Maybe they think that because her uncle’s not been very willing to give up the reins of power,” he said instead, steering the subject to his _real_ interest.

“Claude!” she said, taken aback.

He shrugged. “I’m just saying…” He gave a brief explanation of the meeting with Bergliez. “He’s not giving the best impression of an Emperor ruling over united domains, is he?”

As much as Edelgard had tried to play it off as family taking liberties… Claude thought it must run deeper than that. Even his half-siblings knew not to defy their father quite so brazenly, if only for the sake of plausible deniability. If Lord Arundel was going around and talking down Edelgard’s decisions to the most important nobles of the Empire…

“Arundel is…” Manuela faltered, just for a moment, a sharp downturn at the corners of her mouth revealing a real concern that rarely broke through her poise. “He has his own resources, but he’s a hundred percent behind Her Majesty for this war.”

Claude made a quiet humming sound which she could take as agreement.

Manuela wasn’t fooled. She sighed and said, “Just promise me that you won’t go digging, will you? It’s best not to offend Arundel. He may be the most powerful man in the Empire.”

He liked the way she assumed he _would_ inevitably cause offence if he did dig into it more. Professor Manuela knew him so well! “Hey, I’m just trying to work out where the danger points are. Don’t want to stick my foot in my mouth by accident.”

“There is that…” Despite the serious implications, she smiled as she shook her head. But she didn’t say any more on the topic. “Lysithea was supposed to return this morning. Let’s see if she’s here yet.”

Knowing that Manuela’s wisdom sometimes manifested in strange ways, Claude let her lead him back through the grounds, but instead of going back into the palace, they wandered through the orchard again, until they came to a stout apple tree, shorter than all the others.

Lysithea was sitting in its branches.

“I take it this tree has the sweetest apples, then?” Claude called up to her.

She was startled, shifting on her branch to peer down at them both. To his relief, she smiled. “Claude! You really did come.”

“In the flesh,” he agreed. If she was happy to see him, that was a good sign. “I hear you’ve been away from Enbarr too.”

Lysithea rolled her eyes. “You’d think I’d gone all the way to Morfis with how everyone carries on! I was only visiting Hanneman.”

“He’s taken back up at the family estate, hasn’t he?” 

Claude had heard it from his spies, but it wasn’t something the Empire was particularly keeping secret. Having the foremost expert in Crestology, a man who’d abandoned Adrestia with his title, voluntarily return to the fold under Edelgard lent credence to the idea that the Empire were ushering in a new era of scientific advancement. Maybe they would even ‘discover’ how to make proper cannons.

“Only because his old lab is there,” Manuela said. In a more sarcastic voice, she added, “Surely _no_ other lab in the Empire could meet his standards.”

“It’s only a few hours away from Enbarr,” Lysithea explained for Claude’s benefit. “It’s convenient.”

“Are you apprenticed to him then?” Claude asked. He hadn’t heard about it, and he hadn’t thought Lysithea to be very interested in Crests, but…

“Something like that,” she replied with a shrug, beginning to climb back down the tree.

Claude felt Manuela reach forward impulsively before drawing herself back. _Lysithea is as open to help as ever, I take it._

“How are you feeling?” Manuela asked instead. “Do you need me to—”

“I am well,” Lysithea said, frowning. “I know my limits.”

Indeed, she’d always been well aware of her limits in the Academy. As Claude remembered, she would begin studying in secret when she utterly ignored them, knowing everyone else would only try to get her to consider such unimportant details as food and rest.

Claude grinned. “I see you haven’t changed a bit.”

That was Lysithea’s cue to turn her frown on him instead. “I see you haven’t either.” But her lips twitched and a moment later a small smile graced them instead. For the moment, nostalgia was on his side. “Seriously, though, how is everyone?”

“Well, Hilda has the whole of Derdriu wrapped around her little finger, as you might expect…” Claude dutifully dredged his memory for any scraps of information he could remember about the rest of the Golden Deer. He may have embellished some of it. He knew Hilda still exchanged the odd letter with Marianne, and Ignatz with Raph, but Claude himself had had little to do with them since graduating.

Manuela’s expression softened as he finished by recounting Leonie’s successes as a mercenary. “Everyone really is doing well, then,” she murmured. “That’s good news.”

Something had happened to the cheerful reunion mood, but Claude couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

Lysithea reached out to pat Manuela’s arm. “I told you—we’re not your responsibility any more. It’s not your fault if anything happens.”

“Yes, but…” She trailed off with a crestfallen expression. “Never mind. It really was good to speak to you, Claude, but I think I had better check in on Her Majesty.”

“You should!” Lysithea scowled and folded her arms. “She always overdoes it if one of us isn’t there to make her take a break.”

Manuela and Claude shared what must surely be identical expressions of suppressed laughter.

Lysithea flushed. “Yes, alright, you needn’t look like that.”

“You’ve gotten much better,” Manuela said graciously. She seemed to have recovered some of her cheer, as she gave both of them a kiss on the cheek by way of goodbye. “Claude, Lysithea will know much more about that topic than I. Just… promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Cross my heart,” Claude said, ignoring the way Lysithea narrowed her eyes at him.

She folded her arms as Manuela walked away. “So what was it?” she asked. “Crests or Arundel?”

“Both,” he said, “but I guess mainly Arundel for the time being.” He told _again_ the odd meeting with Count Bergliez.

Lysithea pursed her lips, frowning. “He shouldn’t have done that. Now you’re just desperate to know more.”

Claude smiled. “If he wasn’t trying to pique my curiosity, he should’ve been more discreet.”

“He was trying to _warn_ you,” she snapped. “Take this seriously.”

The way she and Manuela talked about Arundel— _around_ Arundel more than actually _about_ him—did make him sound dangerous, but he wasn’t sure where Count Bergliez came into it.

The momentary display of anger faded and Lysithea sighed. “Walk with me.”

Half amused and half concerned, Claude followed her on a familiar path through the orchard. Maybe the grounds weren’t such a great place for secret conversations if _everybody’s_ instinct was to come here to be secretive. “Come on, Lysithea, have you ever known me not to be serious?”

Lysithea snorted. “Contrary to the impression you try to give, no,” she replied, which gave Claude pause. He didn’t have time to consider it further before she barrelled on with: “But Arundel isn’t just a scheming noble. He’s dangerous.”

He recovered enough to chime in with, “Please tell me you’ve never thought of me as _just_ a scheming noble.”

He was rewarded when a ghost of a smile crossed her face, although she pretended to be cross. “I’m trying to talk to you here!”

“Sorry, Professor Lysithea.” He bowed his head. “I’m all ears.”

Despite her words, she didn’t say anything for a long time. Claude recognised the knitted brows as a signal of deep thought, if it hadn’t already been obvious from it being, well… Lysithea. He tried to keep a smile on his face, but it was hard under the weight of those slight shoulders as she tried to fold in on herself, seemingly without even realising.

“How much do you know about the Insurrection of the Seven?” she asked, eventually, her voice barely a murmur.

Not a topic for levity, then. “That was… some sort of rebellion in the Empire, right? Of the major nobles? The details are a little fuzzy.” Claude hadn’t even been in Fódlan then and everyone seemed to consider it old news by the time he was getting into Alliance politics. “All I really know about it is that House Ordelia tried to support House Hyrm, and, well…” No need to rub the downfall of her family in her face.

Lysithea nodded, smoothing one of her sleeves. Nervous tic? “Yes. To give the short version, after House Hyrm rebelled against the Empire, rather than giving their lands to another heir of the family or creating a new house, Emperor Ionius placed it directly under the control of Prime Minister Aegir. Concerned that this signalled the Emperor gathering more land under his direct control, the six major noble houses of the Empire launched a political coup. The Emperor was stripped of his power and became little more than a figurehead.”

“Really?” Edelgard wasn’t a figurehead, that was for certain. So she’d wrested real power back from the nobles… even smarter and more determined than he gave her credit for. “So… these Seven would be… the noble families and Arundel, I’m guessing?”

Which would make Arundel pretty ruthless, taking power from someone who was basically his brother-in-law, but not more than—

“No,” Lysithea said. “When the fighting started, Arundel fled to Faerghus with Princess Edelgard.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“Arundel only became associated with the Insurrection when he became the public face of it, as the regent for his niece years later.” Lysithea kept going as though she couldn’t hear him. “When there was a position in it for him. When he… could use his family for his advancement.”

Claude frowned. She was staring at him so imploringly. He must be missing something. The pause was significant. He didn’t _sound_ any worse than Aegir or the rest on the face of it, but Lysithea wasn’t going around and warning Claude about the possible machinations of Hevring or any of the rest of them.

She bit her lip, obviously noticing that he didn’t quite follow. “The others…” She trailed off, swallowed, and tried again. “The others were in it for… well, I suppose from their perspective they were trying to safeguard the balance of power in the Empire. Certainly, that’s how Bergliez tells it.”

Now would be the wrong time to laugh at Lysithea’s small nose wrinkling in disdain.

“Arundel… is different. He wanted the position to exploit it.” Lysithea took a deep breath. “When he came to power, his people came to House Ordelia. That’s the real reason for the downfall of our house." She hesitated a moment, studying his expression with enough force to make even Claude uncomfortable. "And for my… condition.”

“Wait, what?” Claude’s mind felt like it had come to a complete standstill. “Your…”

Her _condition._ Because he’d always assumed it was some kind of illness—congenital weakness, maybe. But if it was caused by _people,_ then that meant—what did it mean?

“Do you know why House Ordelia fell from grace, Claude?” Lysithea demanded. There was something cold in her eyes, something biting and raw. Claude knew it wasn’t directed at him, but it was hard not to look away from it anyway. “It’s not just because we backed the wrong side. It’s because our future _died._ Now there’s only me, and I'm nearly dead myself.”

“But you…” The Insurrection of the Seven was years ago. As much as Lysithea hated being treated like a child, at the time, she really would have been just a little girl. A _girl._ And now she was barely an adult and already looking forward to dying. “What did Arundel's people _do_ to you?”

“That’s none of your business,” she said bitingly. “I’ve already said more than I should. But I know what you’re like and you would’ve just—” Lysithea shook her head. “Arundel is different from the others, Claude. Don’t cross him.”

He gritted his teeth to stop his words spilling out without thinking. How dare they, what sort of, tell me who, blah blah. All stuff Lysithea knew anyway and not anything she would want to hear from her old house leader. It would sound false, even if Claude objected because of the utter _wrongness_ of it, and not because of Lysithea.

It took several seconds to get his thoughts in order. “How…”

She held her hands up, bringing him to a sudden stop. “I’m done talking about this. Consider this your warning since we’re old friends. I’m certainly not _encouraging_ you.”

_You think we’re friends?_ Claude thought, bewildered, but dismissed it. ‘Friends’ wasn’t as meaningful in Fódlan as in Almyra, he kept forgetting. His grandfather had always talked about their ‘friends’ in House Gloucester in public, after all. “I don’t mean that! I just—”

“Claude,” she said, exasperated now, “can’t you just stay away from him?”

He opened his mouth but paused at her expression. Exasperated, but… resigned. Resigned to something terrible. One of her arms had developed a tremor. That’s what she’d been trying to hide, he realised, with the way she smoothed out her gaping sleeve. She was trying to suppress it even now. Lysithea hated showing weakness.

What was it she always said? ‘I don’t have time for failure’? Her health had always been delicate, even at the Academy. How much had five years worsened things? Maybe he shouldn’t burden her with more stress.

“Well… alright,” he said, watching how she practically sagged in relief. “I’ll try to avoid him. Thanks for the warning.”

“You finally learnt a bit of sense,” Lysithea replied, wry and light. “Miracles _do_ happen.”

Claude grinned back at her, even though he felt a little bad for the deception, and the inevitable digging into Lysithea’s personal issues that he’d have to do. “I don’t know if I’d go that far…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claude's insatiable curiosity pulled this conversation with Lysithea forward by at least a few chapters. He loves being even a meta inconvenience! But it's all part of the fun of writing him. These early chapters may seem a bit more Claude heavy and, well, they sort of are, but I promise Edelgard will get her fair share of the spotlight too. We should be able to pick up the pace a little with the next few chapters too.
> 
> As always, all comments are loved and appreciated, but most importantly I hope you're all keeping yourselves safe out there.


	6. An Education

The conversation with Lysithea bothered Claude more than he wanted to admit. It was all well and good to say that she just wanted him to understand what kind of man Arundel was, but it raised more questions than it answered about everything else. What was the purpose of whatever had been done to Lysithea? Why was Arundel still around if he was so evil? Could it be that Edelgard didn’t _know?_ That seemed impossible. That she didn’t care? But her friendship with Lysithea seemed genuine…

Why was Lysithea in the Empire at all?

He didn’t have much time to wonder about it, because not long after Lysithea excuse herself, a servant appeared and asked if Claude would be willing to take tea with her Majesty.

 _What else am I going to do?_ Claude thought, amused by the formality. He followed the servant back indoors and to an upper floor where all the windows seemed to be double height and made with stained glass. He didn’t have time to study them, but it at a glance they appeared to depict scenes from the history of the Empire. _Yes, yes, the Empire used to rule over all. I can take a hint, Edelgard._

The rooms here had no doors; instead, grand archways opened up onto the central corridor to best show off the stained glass and to allow light to floor in. Not exactly an area for private conversation, but pretty.

Edelgard was in a room near the end of the long corridor, easily identifiable by the armed guards posted outside it. The Emperor rose to greet him with a smile. “Claude! Thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure if you would be finished talked with Lysithea.”

 _I wasn’t,_ he groused to himself. “She went to her room to rest, I think.”

Her smile faltered. “Was she… very unwell?”

Very, of course, because Lysithea was always a bit unwell. “I’m not really sure,” Claude said. The tremor would have made him extremely concerned at the Academy, but her health must have deteriorated since then. Maybe it was common now.

With the knowledge that something had been done _to_ her to make her like this, the thought raised a terrible cold fury in him. He tried to push it down. It would just be a distraction.

“Would you like me to check on her, Your Majesty?” asked the servant who’d fetched Claude.

Edelgard breathed a sigh of relief. “I’d appreciate it, Miguel. And if you would make Manuela aware…”

The man bowed. “Consider it done, Your Majesty.”

Then he left, leaving the two of them alone. Well, alone for a certain standard of ‘alone’. Perhaps it was Claude’s imagination, but he thought one of the guards glared at him suspiciously as he watched the servant leave.

“Please, sit,” Edelgard said.

The table was laid out with delicate cakes and sandwiches as well as a pot of steaming tea. Very much like the little teatimes at Garreg Mach, in fact. “So soon after breakfast?”

“I…” Was she a little flushed. “In my hurry to catch up with work, I may have… _skipped_ breakfast…”

It was such childish contrition that Claude laughed. “Manuela wasn’t happy to hear that, I take it?”

“She suggested I take a break. Quite… forcefully.”

He shook his head, still grinning. “I see she hasn’t outgrown that habit. You wouldn’t believe the number of times she dragged me out of the library for dinner.”

Edelgard returned his look with a smirk of her own. “I’m sorry to say that that sounds very believable.”

“And here I was thinking I’d made a good impression.”

Edelgard laughed. She hadn’t seemed to do much of that at the Academy. It was a wonder to see her so relaxed _now,_ despite all the responsibilities that came with the mantle of Emperor. What a strange time to find yourself. What a strange woman. _But if she wasn’t so strange, this would all be much more boring. I should be grateful._

She reached out and poured him a cup of tea, a soft citrus scent wafting towards Claude alongside the steam. He watched, appalled, as Edelgard added not one but _two_ spoonfuls of sugar to her own cup.

Catching sight of his expression, she said, “I didn’t know what kind of tea you preferred, but I’ll make sure to have it prepared on another occasion.”

“Oh, this is fine,” Claude said, resisting the urge to push the sugar bowl further away from his cup—just in case. “Although I quite enjoy chamomile, myself.”

And he drank with without additions, as nature intended! _Ugh._

“Chamomile?” Edelgard tiled her head a little, like an inquisitive bird. “I admit, I expected you to prefer something with a stronger flavour.”

Claude had grown up with the pine tea of Almyra, which had a subtle and fragrant taste. Many of the popular teas of Fódlan felt heavy and cloying by comparison. Not that he could explain that. He smiled instead. “I can be delicate too, you know.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she replied, light and playful.

It was easy to banter with her. Too easy, almost. It felt false, especially after learning more about Arundel. And still, she and Lysithea had managed to become friends… What did Lysithea see in her to overlook all of that? Claude frowned at Edelgard’s violet eyes as though they might reveal what was going on inside her head.

He only realised he’d been staring when Edelgard raised an eyebrow at him. “Is there something on your mind, Claude?”

For a moment, he considered simply asking her about Arundel directly. But she could hardly be expected to give a straight answer and he didn’t want her to think he was digging into him out of more than idle curiosity. He assumed Manuela had already told her about their conversation—unavoidable in this place—but there was no need to sour the mood of their ‘negotiations’ so soon by asking the Emperor awkward questions.

But speaking of why, supposedly, he was here… “I was just wondering if banter could count as negotiating.”

“I seem to remember that you started it yesterday,” Edelgard replied dryly. _Well, fair enough._ “We can talk about taxes if you like, though.”

Claude grinned. Fódlan seem to regard learning as somehow unmasculine, and most nobles learned their mathematics reluctantly if at all. It had certainly allowed him to run rings about many of the Alliance nobles.(Not Count Gloucester, unfortunately. That man was as smart as he was arrogant.)

Maybe Edelgard thought she could do the same to him. Cute.

“Perhaps we should save such riveting conversation for another time,” he said. “But on the topic, I did want to ask what you hope to get out of this. You _are_ allowed to mention taxes if they’re especially important.”

The last comment brought a fleeting smile to her face, but it was soon overcome by a thoughtful frown. “What I _hope_ for… An ally, I suppose. A partner, perhaps more precisely. Someone who would share my vision—who could help me see further and better.”

High-handed and moralising instead of practical, about what he expected after asking for her ‘hopes’. You could tell a lot about someone from what they dreamed of. And why.

The why was really the trouble, though, wasn’t it?

“Your vision for a society where people can rise and fall on their own merits?” He took a sip of his tea to make the pause more significant, but she merely waited patiently for him to continue. “It sounds… lovely.”

It did. _If_ you could assume ‘people’ to truly mean ‘people’, and not merely ‘the people of Fódlan’. Not, in Claude’s experience, an entirely safe assumption.

He expected her to be disappointed by his scepticism, like the last time, but contrarily she sat up straighter, fixing her pale yes on him with a determined line to her lips. “I’ll show you,” she said. “Tomorrow.”

“Show me what?”

With a satisfied smile, she took a cake from the stand and took a dainty bite from it. “Our school. The model for all of Fódlan.”

*

In truth, Edelgard spoke too soon when she said ‘tomorrow’, a fact she had to falteringly explain to Claude the next day, at another ‘medically advised’ tea break. She held her stoicism infuriatingly, reached out to stroke her cheek with a handsome smile that took her breath away. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Overeager looks adorable on you anyway.”

“Well, as long as I’ve entertained you,” Edelgard had replied, but she’d been aware of blushing ferociously as she spoke. Curse a man who knew how handsome he was.

But at least it was good practise for being less affected in the future. She tried to bear in mind what Manuela said about being ‘tested’ by him, a test she was determined to pass by keeping her cool and not giving in to her childish impulse to poke his cheek to see if she could disturb that perfect smile of his, or the even more childish impulse to get her own back somehow.

Quite without her permission, teatimes with Claude had become a daily occurence—she suspected that Manuela was trying her hand at matchmaker—but at least they were enjoyable when Claude could be persuaded to talk like a real person and not in constant verbals parries and thrusts. For this, Edelgard usually had to resort to safe topics like fashion and Fódlan’s distant past. On those occasions, he was as fine a conversation partner as one could ask for.

A good partner in other things… would remain to be seen.

Before the week was out, the visit to the school was arranged. Ferdinand joined them as he had also contributed a lot to this particular project. They took a carriage through the city, and under her grand cloak Edelgard was unpleasantly warm despite the cool weather. She was glad that Ferdinand was taking the brunt of Claude’s interest on this occasion.

“So, you have a lot of experience with educational policy yourself?” Claude was asking, of course knowing the answer to be no.

He underestimated Ferdinand if he thought such a minor nitpick would be sufficient to unsteady him. “Not myself!” Ferdinand said in his usual bombastic manner. “But I have been lucky enough to be taught by Wilhelm of Rowe, a renowned scholar, who was pleased to consult in this matter—”

He went on for some time on Wilhelm’s qualifications, observations the man had drawn on the best was of teaching his various charges over the years, the grand plans they’d outlined together for a university in the south…

Edelgard could see Ferdinand beginning to get carried away, and gently interrupted with, “But that is a consideration for the future. We’ve been focusing on the teaching of more practical skills right now, haven’t we?”

“Indeed!” Ferdinand beamed, not at all chastised. “The basics can be built upon later for those with the aptitude and interest, but it is important that all citizens of Adrestia get the opportunity to learn!”

Claude winked in her. “And even citizens of the Alliance get the opportunity to get a word in edgeways. Thanks for the save, Your Majesty.”

Edelgard could not formulate any response except to blink at him.

He smiled, knowing him enjoying the thought of having taken her off guard, before turning back to Ferdinand. “So, who did you get to actually teach this stuff? I doubt your scholar is doing it all on his own.”

“The school is currently staffed by volunteers from the priory at Essar—”

“Sisters?” Claude looked at Edelgard askance. “Seems a bit counter-intuitive, given everything.”

“I’ve always said, that my issues lie with the Church, not the faith,” Edelgard replied coolly. “Many of the Sisters of the priory were already engaged in voluntary work in Enbarr, and have experience as teachers. It simply made sense.”

However awkward it had actually been to ask them for such a favour. Once upon a time, the priory at Essar had been a place Edelgard loved visiting. Built by a woman of House Hresvelg who’d married the lord of Essar six hundred years ago, it had been dedicated to Saint Seiros in honour of her sister, who bore the Crest of Seiros and joined the Church against the then-Emperor’s wishes.

Once, Edelgard had considered it a place that allowed her to commune with her ancestors as well as Saint Seiros herself. The Mother Superior remembered Edelgard from all those years ago and had expressed joy at welcoming her back to the priory. It had been an uncomfortable, mortifying visit as she found herself unable to turn aside the Mother Superior’s promises to pray for her good health.

Edelgard spent the rest of the journey in silence, trying to properly recover her composure, but all too soon they were alighting at the school. Edelgard fazed up at the spire of the converted chapel and took a deep breath, steeling herself.

“You feeling alright there, Princess?”

She frowned at Claude.

“Sorry. Your Majesty.” He smiled. “I keep forgetting.”

“That was not—” She sighed. He had surely noticed her discomfort and was needling her for his own entertainment. “Never mind. Let us go inside.”

Despite saying that, when Claude didn’t move, neither did she. He watched her for a minute, still wearing the same easy smile—but his eyes were calculating. “You really don’t like the Church of Seiros, do you. You hate even looking at the thing.”

“My feelings on the subject are… complex,” Edelgard allowed, “but my personal faith is not relevant.”

“Hm. Well, maybe not.” Claude seemed to lose interest in the subject, instead peering at the chapel himself. “Even though it’s old, it’s fairly elaborate, don’t you think? I’m impressed.”

“This chapel dates back four hundred years,” she said, latching onto the topic as a distraction. “There was a movement in Enbarr at the time to celebrate the Goddess by making her cities things of beauty. It used to be painted in bright colours. You can still see areas where the paint remains inside.”

“Really?” Claude peered at it with renewed interest.

If he were a habitual follower of the Church, surely he ought to know about the aestheticism movement? It had been one of the pretexts given for the War of the Eagle and Lion, that the Empire was straying from the true path of the Goddess. By comparison to the Empire and the Alliance, Churches in the Kingdom were still austere.

Of course, dear Byleth had managed to learn almost nothing of the Church despite travelling the whole of Fódlan. Still…

“You really are knowledgable about the history of Enbarr,” Claude said. “At some point, I should let you take me on a tour of the city.”

“How gracious of you to allow me to suffer your presence,” she replied dryly, but without heat. Conversation like this with Claude was familiar enough by now that, in a weird way, it helped to settle her nerves. “I hope you will also _allow_ me to usher you inside. We don’t want to cause more interruption than necessary.”

“Oh, now _I’m_ the hold up?” Claude replied, but he stepped inside even as he said it.

The walls and curved archways did little to alleviate Edelgard’s nerves. To cover the way her muscles tensed as she crossed the threshold, she gestured towards a corner of the ceiling. “There. You can see where it used to be painted like the night sky.”

Claude glanced at it and then, to her surprise, his face split into one of those broad, genuine smiles. “ _Draconis.”_

Edelgard blinked. She had never looked very closely at that particular patch—but yes, now that he’d pointed it out, she could see that it was the Great Wyrm constellation, with half a ‘wing’ missing. “Your astronomy must be excellent to recognise it so quickly.”

“I’ve always enjoyed stargazing,” Claude said. He seemed genuinely absorbed, not turning to look at her at all.

She filed this information as another safe topic for their tea times, but Ferdinand had appeared in the doorway to wave them forward, frowning. Claude was still staring at the ceiling so she grabbed his arm to pull him along—

He twitched violently, not quite pulling himself from her grip, suppressing the reaction nearly instantly. But Edelgard was not so oblivious that she could not recognise her own reactions on someone else. She dropped his arm and retreated a few steps, waving him forward. “Sorry for dragging you away, but really…”

There was a pause before his apologetic chuckle. “Okay, it really was my fault that time, you’re right. Let’s press on!”

He gave no outward signs of being perturbed, but as he fell into step beside her, Edelgard studied him out of the corner of her eye. The smile soon fell away, revealing a tense line to his jaw that matched the square set of his shoulders, as though bracing himself.

She could put the pieces together. Wrapped up in his own thoughts, her touch had startled him, and he’d reacted instinctively—with an instinct he immediately tried to disguise. Perhaps the pause had been him deciding he’d successfully fooled her, or just deciding that if he pretended like nothing happened, she would start to second-guess it herself.

So… at some point, Claude had also learned to fear being touched. _And when he pretends to be intimate with me, he knows exactly what he’s doing, because…_

The thought that they might be similar in this regard was oddly comforting. It made total sense, now, why he insisted on the silly moments of flirting. How often had she inserted herself into uncomfortable conversations for the sake of it not being able to take her by surprise? _Well, two can play at that game._

“…The students are of mixed age groups, as the school has only been running for a few months. Sister Ophelia has kindly allowed us to observe her class, who are the most advanced.”

Oh. Yes. Ferdinand was here. He’d been thoughtful enough to fill in her awkward silence, even if Claude did not seem like he was fully attending at the moment. She must remember to thank him later.

Ferdinand held open the door and gestured Claude inside, giving him a moment to send her a concerned look. She subtly waved his concern away, taking a deep breath and making sure to smile as she entered the classroom, an old antechamber of the chapel. Though she knew the oldest child in the school was thirteen, they all seemed unbearably small. The idea that she had ever been so young was alien.

“Your Majesty, Your Grace, my lord Ferdinand—” Sister Ophelia curtsied The children clumsily copied her example, a few of the youngest boys doing so a bit _too_ exactly as they curtsied themselves. Claude gave a very unsubtle cough to hide his smile. “Thank you for visiting our humble school.”

“Thank you for welcoming us, Sister,” Edelgard said, making sure to cast her smile on all of the students as well. She’d practised this moment over and over in her head, wanting the children to feel that she was genuinely happy to be there. The last thing she wanted was for them to run home and tell their neighbourhoods about the cold, distant, and awkward Emperor. “And thank you to everyone else, as well! I am very excited to hear about some of the work you have been doing!”

She received some shy smiles in return, which made her whole body feel lighter. As Sister Ophelia coached the children through reciting the alphabet, numbers to thirty, before each child introduced themselves by name, spelt it aloud, and then answered some basic arithmetic questions from Sister Ophelia. It shouldn’t have been thrilling, but Edelgard felt as though her heart was in her throat the whole time and she had to carefully control her breathing to keep from crying. _This_ was her real purpose. The war was an ugly necessity, a black mark she would carry throughout history—but _this…_ this was the future.

It was such a small step. There were still only a handful of schools in Enbarr, and they had yet to completely find satisfactory answers to how to ensure every child in Fódlan would be able to attend one. But Edelgard would find a way somehow, even if it took until her dying breath.

_**This** is why I was made._

She was especially interested in Claude’s reaction, so of course he was being excruciatingly careful to hide everything behind that handsome smile of his. “Do you mind if I ask a question of my own?”

Sister Ophelia glanced at her charges and then at Edelgard. She gave the sister a slight nod, hoping she would understand that it was not an order but ‘permission if you think it wise’. She had tried to stress throughout the educational project that she was seeking honest opinions from those with more experience than she, not rigid obedience, but she was not sure how well all of them had taken to it.

“You’re most welcome to, Your Grace,” Sister Ophelia replied. “Although I hope you will understand if the children cannot answer.”

“Oh, of course. You guys have only been in schooling for a few months, right?”

After a pause when it became clear he was addressing them directly, a few of the children gave hesitant nods.

“Did any of you learn any reading or anything before you came here?”

A few children raised their hands. “My Ma taught me some numbers,” a particularly bold boy said—one of the older children.

“I see…” Claude looked thoughtful, but there was a gleam in his eye that Edelgard suspected meant mischief. Her suspicions were proved correct when he reached inside his jacket and withdrew a slim book. “Could you guys read something for me right now?”

Sister Ophelia eyed the book with a frown. “It might be a little advanced—”

“I will!” said the boy from before.

Claude laughed. “That’s what we like to hear! What’s your name?”

“Tobias, my lord,” the boy replied. At an intake of breath from the sister, he corrected it to, “I mean, Your Grace.”

“Ah, don’t worry about that,” Claude said, handing the book over.

 _Did you really think we might have staged this?_ Edelgard thought, exasperated. _Honestly._

The boy squinted at the title. “A…” He paused. “A trey-at-is…”

A girl standing next to him leaned over his shoulder and promptly said, “Treatise.”

“A treatise on the prop-er-ties—” Tobias continued, sounding out the longer word carefully but recognisably, “of… dyn—dynastic blood in Fódlan.” He scrunched up his face. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“That’s noble stuff, ain’t it?” the girl next to him said. She was one of the ones who’d raised her hands, Edelgard recalled. “And blood is… well, you know.” She gave Claude a long look and then opened her palm expectantly. “Let me have a look.”

Tobias rolled his eyes before the passing the book over to her. She opened it and began to read, more confidently than Tobias: _“It has been noted that the noble blood in Fódlan is particularly strong, dem—”_ Her first pause. She scowled and then, with a determined expression: _“Demonstrating the strengths of the gifts of the Goddess and why we are her chosen people.”_

Edelgard’s brows had been climbing higher and higher up head and she feared they were at risk of leaving her face altogether. Why on earth would he pick such a book? Where had he _gotten_ it from? She recognised it—it was an older book, but popular amongst the nobility, and had gone through a number of editions. It pretended at being scientific, but most of it was merely vague assertions and extremely carefully picked examples. She couldn’t believe _Claude_ saw any value in it, so he must have another reason for bringing it with him.

The look on the girl’s face could only be described as extreme scepticism as she continued reading. _“Apart from the obvious blessings of Crests, the nobility of Fódlan possess many advantages over those of other nations, showcasing superior intelligence, learning, strength as well as vastly more talent in the arts…”_

“That’s not true, is it, Sister?” a high-pitched voice suddenly piped up, one of the younger children.

“It certainly isn’t!” Sister Ophelia said, flushed. “I don’t think this is appropriate material—”

Claude held up his hands. “Hey, they say know your enemies, right?”

“These are _children!_ ” Sister Ophelia hissed.

“It’s alright, Sister, it’s obviously rubbish anyway,” Tobias said blithely. “’Cause the Emperor had been saying how the Church has been lying about lots of things an’ that. And nobles aren’t any better than us just because they got Crests.”

“And my daddy fought in the Dagda war and he says they have cannons and all sorts that we don’t in Fódlan!” said another child. “So we can’t be better than them or we’d have all that stuff too, wouldn’t we?”

Whispered discussions broke out between them as Sister Ophelia tried to restore order. Edelgard was more interested in the girl, who kept reading to herself, mouthing the words with a frown of concentration. Even after Sister Ophelia had managed to quiet the children, she kept reading.

Sister Ophelia noticed when she turned a page. “Elisabetta, I think it’s time to return the book to His Grace.”

Elisabetta looked up in alarm.

“She can keep it if she wants,” Claude said. When Sister Ophelia glowered at him, he hastily added, “It was a bit unfair—I didn’t really expect they’d be able to read it…”

Sister Ophelia turned to Edelgard.

“I won’t forbid her a book…” she said. She’d be no better than Rhea if she did, and she wasn’t sure if the girl would be able to understand all the words anyway, even if she could read them. “But I will say that you should read it carefully. It is not… highly regarded as a serious work of science.”

An understatement in the extreme. The normally calm, if eccentric, Hanneman had practically spat on it when he came across a copy in the Enbarr library and tossed it directly into the fire. _Actually, if I remember rightly, it was summer then—he had a fire stoked in his personal rooms just so he could burn it…_

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Elisabetta said, holding the book tightly to her chest and bowing her head. “I mean, I—I _know._ I just wanted to… understand.”

“Let me read it too!” Tobias said.

“You couldn’t even read the title!” she snapped, meekness vanishing like smoke.

The children fell into squabbling. Sister Ophelia’s pinched expression was a sight to behold, but Edelgard waved her over. Under the cover of the children’s chatter and Ferdinand running interference with Claude on the topic of his precious ‘curriculum’, Edelgard quietly said, “I’m sorry that we ended up causing much more of an interruption that we realised.”

Sister Ophelia sighed, giving a faint smile. “Perhaps it will turn out to be for the best. These children are all very bright—sometimes beyond their current abilities in reading and writing. Some… spirited—” She pulled a face. “— _discussion_ might give them an outlet for their frustrations.”

Edelgard nodded. “Please send word if you need any more materials or support. And thank you for all your efforts so far.” She hesitated, suppressing the urge to bite the lip. “I’m sorry to ask something which might be confidential, but, do you know… the girl…”

“Elisabetta.” The sister clasped her hands together, but she did not seem offended by the question. “I don’t _know_ much, but I’ve had my suspicions—she mentions her mother, but it seems there is no father in her life—nor was her mother ever married. She was more advanced in her studies than the other children when she came to us, and from some of the things she says, she seems to know a little of noble manners…”

Edelgard’s heart sank at the familiar story. _Just like Dorothea, except there was no Manuela to rescue her._ “You think her mother once worked in a noble household. And Elisabetta…”

“…Is most likely an abandoned child, yes,” Sister Ophelia said. She shook her head. “I have no proof, of course.”

It wasn’t uncommon for noble men to try ‘bettering the odds’ of having an heir with a Crest by having affairs with women who weren’t their wives, and most of the time the most _available_ women were the servants of their household whom they could bully and pressure freely. Of course they would never take responsibility for the resulting Crestless bastards. Sometimes the babes were taken away from their mothers entirely and given to an orphanage. Hundreds of children, thrown away as though they were disposable…

 _I just wanted to… understand._ To understand why she was unwanted?

“Thank you for telling me this, Sister,” Edelgard said. “It’s presumptuous of me, but… could you make yourself available to Elisabetta if she has any questions or concerns about the book?”

“I can do better and refer her to Sister Juliette.” Sister Ophelia smirked. “I believe her _Response_ has just been reprinted—a third edition.”

“Ah.” Edelgard had read that one, too. The author had been anonymous then, however. “It’s quite a bold move to put her name to that work. Some of the ideas in it were a little… unorthodox, from what I recall.”

“The Mother Superior was not pleased,” Sister Ophelia allowed, but her own serene smile suggested that _she_ approved, at least. “But these are changing times. I think some unorthodox thinking is required to see us through. Those of us who have dedicated ourselves to the faith must make some bold adjustments if we still wish to be relevant in Fódlan’s future. How can we best communicate the message, the beauty of the Goddess, if so much of Her teachings have been distorted by centuries of lies?”

She gave her charges a fond smile. Whilst Edelgard wasn’t looking, they had managed to surround Ferdinand and Claude and her badgering them with questions. Ferdinand, of course, was in his element, but Claude’s smile had become rather fixed. _Serves him right!_

Preoccupied with her thoughts about Claude, Edelgard was caught off guard when she turned back to Sister Ophelia again and the woman bowed, deep and slow, a gesture of unmistakable personal respect. Edelgard froze.

“Thank you for this opportunity to make a difference, Your Majesty,” Sister Ophelia said. “I can think of no better way to show the Goddess’s affection for Her subjects.”

Edelgard had no answer to this.

*

The rest of the visit was taken up by more practical matters with the Mother Superior: finances, supplies, the children’s progress, their observations about teaching… Claude’s manner the whole time was light and easy-going, as though the whole thing was a hilarious joke. Edelgard hoped it was just a front, concealing real interest, but…

As they left, Edelgard walked in step with Claude, not fully knowing how to raise the matter, but not wanting it to lie for too long either. Eventually, she settled for saying, “So, did the children pass your personal test?”

She couldn’t keep the disapproval out of her voice, and she was unsurprised when Claude laughed—he liked being contrary. “Oh, they were impressive, alright,” he said, which was not quite an answer, she knew. “I’m sorry for setting the cat amongst the pigeons a bit there.”

“Don’t apologise if you don’t really mean it,” Edelgard said dryly.

His grin this time had a sharper quality to it. “Well, if you insist, then I’m not sorry. I just wanted to know what they would say—and the sister, of course.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why _that_ particular book?”

“I take it you’ve read it, then.”

“It’s egotistical, unscientific drivel,” she said. “I can’t believe that _you_ think it’s anything else, either.”

Claude smiled—a real one, she thought, from the glittering warmth in his eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment, since you obviously feel so strongly about it. But really, I meant what I said—if you’re going to educate these kids like nobles, they should know what they’re up against.”

Edelgard pursed her lips. She could see how, from a pragmatic perspective, it made sense. But she simply couldn’t agree. “I see what you’re saying, but I think it’s… naive, in a sense, to think that these children haven’t encountered such beliefs already. The Church of Seiros preaches—preached that everyone should know their place in the social order, as ordained by the Goddess.” And how fickle the ‘Goddess’s favour’ could be. Edelgard knew, and she suspected that Elisabetta had learned that too. “Instead, I think it’s more important to provide an encouraging voice. Something, instead, to say that you _do_ have worth, that you don’t deserve—”

 _Don’t deserve to be alone._ Too close. Too personal.

“—don’t _need_ to merely accept your supposed role in life. You can find your own path.”

There was a significant pause where only their footsteps echoed in the gloomy hallway. Edelgard wondered if she’d gone too far, but then Claude gave a wry smile. “Naive, huh? Ha… who knows, maybe you’re right.”

She stopped just short of saying ‘wait, really?’, but she couldn’t stop herself from blinking in surprise.

Her reaction seemed to amuse him. “You don’t have to look like I’ve grown a second head! Didn’t you decide that _your_ path was all about convincing me of your righteousness?”

“I wouldn’t say it was _all_ about that,” Edelgard replied, recovering. He was right, of course. A small concession, but it was… a good sign, wasn’t it? “Still, I hope you were impressed by what we’ve managed to achieve here in such a short amount of time.”

“I was the one whose own trick backfired on him, so I’d say it definitely left an impression.” Claude laughed. “I never did manage to pin you guys down on how you plan to upscale this whole business. It’s not because I said ‘no taxes’ talk, is it? You should know when I’m joking about stuff like that by now…”

The entire trip back was filled with Claude’s questions, hitting them one after the other like a rain of arrows. ‘How would you get all the teachers…’ ‘Reaching remote areas…’ ‘The costs…’

Edelgard could only feel proud and satisfied, despite her mouth running dry from talk. _He’s interested. We have him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the things that made the biggest impact for me on my first playthrough of Three Houses (Black Eagles, unsurprisingly lol) was Edelgard after the Lonato mission acknowledging the choice of Lonato's people to join him in his rebellion, that they weren't just mindlessly manipulated by their lord but had agency and made their own choices which ought to be respected. It was a really refreshing change from the stereotypical "apolitical peasants" and much closer to the reality of what I studied in my degree. In general, the history of "the common people" is one of my passions as a historian (totally amateur despite the degree) so I couldn't help but squeeze some in here lol. Do let me know if I'm laying it on a bit thick with the worldbuilding though XD
> 
> On another note, unfortunately I've been recently hit by a really nasty period of writer's block. I had a buffer of chapters before I started posting this fic but it's now run out. Updates will continue but I can't make any promises about a regular schedule. When I do update, it will still be on Saturdays, so if any of you are reading without an AO3 account you don't have to check back every day lmao. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for all the support and comments so far. It's one of the things that's kept me trying to power through my block <3


	7. Birds of a Feather

Hilda really felt like she could use a pampering right now. Prince Charming did not appear on schedule to whisk her away from the headache that was Derdriu, though, so she was forced to bravely soldier on. After her hastily put together ‘welcoming party’, she had to manage an influx of nobles from all over the Alliance, Empire, and even a few from the Kingdom, all of whom thought they deserved some kind of official recognition from the government in Derdriu. Poor Ignatz had to send out dozens of notes in his best calligraphy and then escort Dorothea to a several soiréeswhere she gave private performances. That part should’ve actually been fun, but she _was_ talking about Ignatz here, who was nervous as anything.

She, meanwhile, was stuck doing important pencil-pushing until late into the evening, matching spy reports to their correct codes to decrypt them, managing the Riegan household accounts, and just generally being excessively useful. Ugh. She was definitely demanding a cushy pension when all of this was over. A cushy pension and a personal grovelling thank you from Claude. Maybe a knighthood whilst she was was at it.

The fact that she was so busy was her excuse, however meagre, for not keeping a closer eye on Hubert. Oh, obviously she had him escorted around at all times ‘for his own safety’. She wasn’t _stupid_. However, neither was Hubert von Vampire, so she shouldn’t have been surprised to learn that he’d been using some of his guards as _errand boys_ to get in touch with that Duscuran glassmaker to arrange a time for another meeting.

The guard folded his arms across his chest defensively. “I checked the messages, of course! It was all above board. And I made sure he wasn’t left alone!”

Hilda rubbed her temples and counted to ten. This was probably not the guard’s fault. Or, well, maybe it was, but in the interests of fairness she should go away and consider that when she’d calmed down. Then she could knock on his helmet and shout ‘YOU ABSOLUTE DUMMY!’ guilt free. “So, you didn’t consider that it could be in code?”

There was a pause. “Ah… no.”

“Or that, Goddess forbid, if Vestra really wanted to get away, he could overpower a lone guard quite easily and slip away?”

“…Could he really?”

Hilda sighed. For all she knew Hubert was half-way to persuading a discontented population of Duscurans from rebelling against the Alliance; he certainly had the power to promise them any number of rewards from the Emperor. And sure, being driven from your homeland after most of your people were murdered would make anyone _discontented,_ but could they not do any of that in Alliance territory, please? Pretty please?

“Look, just… don’t let it happen again. I’ll talk to Marquis Vestra about using the designated messengers.” All of whom were thoroughly trained as ‘intelligence experts’ by Claude, so they’d know what to look out for. And she should have someone check out this Marro guy’s acquaintances, just in case.

Ugh… and Claude talked so carefully about how if they were going for neutral, they had to be _really_ neutral, but what was she _supposed_ to do? The risk was too high. Even having stupid Marquis Vestra here was a risk too high. She wished Claude had just agreed to send her to Edelgard instead. Hilda could sweet-talk anyone in the Empire. Except maybe Hubert von Vestra, who might as well have actually been undead for all the feeling he had in him.

She was going to go grey early from this. She just knew it.

*

She had a talk with Hubert about letting the guards _guard_ and not using them as messenger boys. She felt the need to add that he oughtn’t use Ignatz as a messenger boy either, just because Hubert’s aloof expression made her think he was going to Try Her Patience, an activity which was beginning to deserve capital letters.

The talk seemed to go well. With full Marquis Vestra formality, he apologised most profusely for the inconvenience, repeating his assertion that he did not need to be protected, but condescending to admit that she had to see that an attempt was made at it. Hilda was quite baffled by the excessive politeness, and Hubert’s guards seemed to regard it merely as a very sinister trick.

This turned out not to be far off the mark, as things came to a head when Hilda stumbled across Hubert, accompanied by a flustered Ignatz _but no guards_ , making their way out of the palace.

“Hilda!” Ignatz blurted, shoulders slumping in relief.

She resisted the urge to snap at him about showing weakness in front of the enemy. It sounded too much like Hubert von Vestra, even in her own head. “You were looking for me?” She made her smile a perfect opposite to the downturn of Hubert’s mouth. “With Hubie?”

“W-Well, sort of…” Ignatz fumbled through an explanation of how Hubert had arranged a meeting with the glassmaker Marro and now needed an escort there.

If Hubert had approached Hilda she would smilingly turned it down with an excuse, but now that Ignatz had given his tacit agreement to the idea, it would make him look bad if Hilda said no. Instead, she turned to Hubert with raised eyebrows. “And what happened to your guards?”

“They appear to have misplaced me.” He folded his arms across his chest, keeping his expression neutral. “I thought that someone of Ignatz’s position would make a suitable replacement.”

“How absent-minded of them,” Hilda said dryly. “Well, I’m afraid that I need Ignatz to look over some accounts for me. All those numbers just leave my head in such a spin! But don’t worry; as it’s such a lovely day, I think a little expedition outside would be nice! I can go with you.”

Ignatz’s face was the picture of relief. If he’d been looking in a mirror he probably would’ve immediately tried to paint it. At least there was one person around here who appreciated her!

By contrast, Hubert’s expression soured. He could _try_ pretending he had not been about to pull the wool over Ignatz’s eyes for some kind of scheme. It would give Hilda slightly less of a headache… well, not really, but it would make him look a little less like a villain from a melodramatic opera.

At least, she thought that was why he looked so grumpy, but the first thing he said when Ignatz scurried away was, “I do not know why you take such joy in pretending to be incompetent, but I assure you the performance is wasted on me, and I doubt that Ignatz is fooled after working with you, either.”

Aw, she was hoping she could get him to underestimate her! That’s what came of being a spymaster, she supposed. “Hm? Oh, I just like to be cheerful!” she said, with the most vacant smile she could muster. “Anyway, shouldn’t we get going?”

“Regrettably,” he muttered under his breath. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to have heard.

Hmm… perhaps Tiffany would be there and Hilda could give her another nudge? But it also wouldn’t do to let Hubert out of her sight like last time. _Must remain professional, Hilda! Even if your future career is at stake!_

To her disappointment, it turned out that Hubert had arranged to meet the Duscur man outside of the glassmaker’s district, not far from Derdriu’s main marketplace, where the choicest goods were shown. Ah, to think of the poor lonely silk merchant who wouldn’t have Hilda visiting him! Last time she had been there, she had seen a beautiful scarf which would have set off Marianne’s eyes _just so._

She doubted Hubert would have appreciation for such things. Maybe she could drag him around the marketplace afterwards as a kind of punishment. The fact that he would know she was doing it to purposefully annoy him made the idea all the sweeter!

Buoyed by this thought, she kept her smile even when they slipped down some sidestreets to… well, the area wasn’t quite _dis_ reputable, but it was certainly run down. There had been a fire in the area about ten years ago and it had never quite recovered.

Hubert led her in the direction of one of Derdriu’s many bridges, this one ornate but chipped in some places and painted over in others. Hilda sighed to look at it. _It could be so beautiful… When all this business is over, maybe I’ll make a clean up of this area the next thing on Claude’s to-do list. It would do him good to work on a civic project instead of negotiating with merchants or Emperors all the time._

The thought occupied her for the few minutes before Marro strode into view. As tall as Hubert and broad-shouldered, with the golden rings in his ears and dark skin contrasting sharply with the long white hair swept behind his ears, he was instantly recognisable.

She’d been able to give a very exact description to Claude’s people and they turned up no suspicious connections – just the suppliers you’d expect a glassmaker to associate with and two other Duscurans who’d made a home in the city, an old woman and her granddaughter who were in no position to incite anything but pity. There was actually nothing suspicious about him at all.

It should’ve been reassuring, but it just made Hilda feel itchy. If he was _really_ just some Duscuran trying to make a living, why on earth would Vampire von Vestra, the Emperor’s spymaster, be interested in him? He wanted to make a gift for the Emperor, he claimed, but there were dozens of reputable glassmakers he could’ve picked for such a task…

“Marquis Vestra,” Marro said. It came out like a statement of fact, but Hubert inclined his head, so she assumed it was actually supposed to be a greeting. “I hope you have not been waiting long.”

“Not at all. We only just arrived.”

This, apparently, was all the small talk Marro was willing to make. He immediately reached into his satchel and drew out something wrapped in cloth, about the size of his hand—which was pretty large. With surprising delicacy for his thick fingers, he revealed a dark glass bird, posed as though proudly surveying its territory. “The proof of concept, as discussed.”

“Ah, excellent,” Hubert said, plucking it from his hands in a short, sharp motion not unlike a bird himself.

Hilda could only assume that he was genuinely pleased, and yet his smile still managed to look like an evil smirk. How? Did he practise for it? She scowled at him, but he was engrossed in examining the glass object and appeared not to notice.

“The basis of these wings is the mountain peregrine of Faerghus, is it not?” He turned it towards the light, squinting at it. “However, the beak shape is clearly modelled on the Lycaon Eagle which is more common in Adrestia and the Alliance territories. It is a fishing bird, I believe. You must have seen many of them in Derdriu?”

Hilda blinked. She hadn’t noticed because of the wing shape, which seemed sharper and almost exaggerated compared to the eagles which fished out of Derdriu’s harbour, but now that Hubert had pointed it out, she could see the resemblance.

“I did not intend to model any particular species of bird,” Marro said. She squinted at him, but couldn’t detect more than a slight tightening around his mouth.

“It was not a criticism,” Hubert replied. The glass bird now sat in the palm of his hand, and he simply stared at it for a moment. “Indeed, you matched the features well together. It could almost be a real creature. The attention to detail is particularly pleasing. One can easily see the difference between the pinions and the plumage in the shape and texture.”

_The what now?_ Hilda thought.

He looked up. “Are you satisfied you could replicate this on a grander scale?”

Marro seemed to relax, just a fraction. “If I were not, I would not accept the commission.”

“Well then…” Hubert reached inside his coat and pulled out a letter. “Present this letter to the Empire’s embassy and you will have access to all the funds you need. I have given them notice to expect you.”

There was a brief pause before Marro took the letter. “Your cooperation is appreciated. Is that all?”

“For now, yes.” Hubert folded his arms. “I may come to see the work in progress at a later date.”

“I cannot promise the work will be interesting to watch, but I will allow it.”

Hilda bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snorting at the momentary frown that crossed Hubert’s face. You had to admire the gall of _anyone_ who ‘allowed’ Marquis Vestra to _do_ anything _._ Even if that theoretically also included her. She noticed that he hadn’t bothered to ask _her_ permission to go and visit Marro in his workshop. Realistically, Hilda was not about to refuse him and encourage him to find new ways of circumventing his guards, but maybe she should at least pretend…

Marro’s goodbye was as perfunctory as his introduction, and Hilda was soon left alone with Hubert once again. She was about to try making awkward conversation when she realised he was still studying the glass bird. She wondered if he was trying to find fault from the small furrow in his brow, but she found it hard to imagine that he wouldn’t have spoken up already if there was something to criticise. This was supposed to be a present for his precious Emperor, after all.

“What is a pinion, anyway?” Hilda found herself asking instead.

Hubert glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “The feathers on a bird used for flight. They have a different shape than others. Surely this is common knowledge?”

Hilda rolled her eyes. She’d bet Marianne would know, but Marianne knew everything that was worth knowing about animals. “I’m sure you are just _especially_ well read, my lord.”

He scowled at her, clearly aware that she was teasing him but not sure how. Or perhaps why. He recovered himself quickly and added, “Why don’t you study this model, then? You may learn something.”

Without further ceremony, it was shoved into her hands. Hilda _may_ have made an undignified screeching sound as she struggled not to drop it, but if she would deny it vigorously if questioned on it later.

“Besides,” Hubert continued, in a mildly surprised tone of voice that was _definitely_ forced, “wasn’t it your birthday recently? It was terribly remiss of me not to get a gift for our hostess. Take this with my apologies.”

Hilda knew he was just doing it to annoy her, but up close, she had to admit that the craftsmanship was… definitely better than she’d expected from a Duscuran. Didn’t Marro and his people originally come from out in the middle of nowhere? Surely he shouldn’t be anywhere near as good as the masters of Derdriu. And yet, whilst she wouldn’t know a pinion from a pie, she could definitely tell that the feathers of the wings and the chest were different shapes. And the detail…

She frowned at the eagle. She would’ve said it was _suspiciously_ good work if Claude’s spies hadn’t already checked Marro out. He must have made it himself. How did such talent come from a Duscuran? Were they just really good at making stuff? Ugh, that made Faerghus driving them from their land seem so much worse.

When she looked up from her thoughts, Hubert was smirking. The expression quickly vanished and Hilda got the impression she wasn’t supposed to have seen it. What was he being smug about now? What was he trying to _hide_ being smug about, when he was so open about it at other times? Did she miss some kind of coded message after all? Damn it, she should’ve asked to read the letter. Too late now.

Trying to get inside the brain of Hubert von Vestra could easily drive her mad, so she just sighed. “Giving me a free sample as a _late_ birthday present is not very thoughtful, you know. Some might say it would be better not to give out any kind of present at _all_.”

“Oh, would they?” Hubert said it in the same tone of mild interest that someone might use if told the sun could come out later.

She sighed. Yeah, that guilt trip was never going to work. Time to change tack. “I just think that in that case, the least you can do is help to correct my _dreadful_ ignorance. Tell me about these pining feathers.”

“Pinion,” Hubert corrected through gritted teeth. “I am not a repository of bird facts. The thing you are looking for is called a library.”

“Oh, but reading is so boooring,” Hilda said. Whined, really. She was very proud of that whine. She’d worked real hard to reach just the right level of irritating. “And you seem to know so much about them!”

“Hardly.”

She thought she was really onto something with that tight-lipped expression, though, so she beamed and linked arms with him, clamping down on his elbow to prevent him from drawing away. “Aw, no need to be so modest! After all, didn’t you manage to recognise those wings from that Faerghus peregrine thing? And without ever seeing one! Since you said your family never usually leaves the Empire.”

She doubled down on the winsomeness of her smile as Hubert scowled. Hilda had no idea why he was so mad that she’d pointed out he was knowledgeable in something, but all this stress was making annoying him her new favourite hobby—

_Goddess, that’s it!_

What use did knowing about birds have to the Emperor’s spymaster? Or to the Emperor herself? None whatsoever. It was, surely, precisely the sort of thing that Marquis Vestra would have dismissed as useless knowledge.

Hubert von Vestra had a hobby and he was embarrassed about it.

Hilda continued peppering him with questions the entire way back to the palace. At first he tried to play her off and ignore her, but then she started to make her own terribly wrong ‘guesses’ at what the answer might be. He might have even known she was doing it on purpose, but after a while it was clear he could no longer hold himself back.

“No, eggshells are not—”

“Birds do not _lack bones;_ the bones are merely—”

“No, not all birds eat _fish;_ what, did you think the sparrows in Garreg Mach would be hauling perch out of the pond in the dead of night—”

Actually, it was kinda nice to listen to him go on. Despite being soaked in condescension, his voice was still easy on the ears, and he was so irritated that he forgot to keep his answers short and to the point, so it was really easy to get lost in the sound of his voice… Ah, now that was nice, Hilda not having to do all the work for a change to keep a conversation going…

“…I do not know why I bother to go on like this when you are not even listening.”

“I am listening!” Hilda protested. “The different beak shapes of the finches of the Brigid archipelago show how they’re suited for different feeding habits! You were telling me about the Brigid Mangrove Finch. Is it cute? The finches around Garreg Mach were so small and fluffy – Marianne showed me!”

Not _totally_ lost, though. Hilda wasn’t stupid.

Hubert narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, but Hilda had half-attended to _plenty_ of lectures before, she was hardly going to get caught out by a man who tried not to talk much at all.

The break seemed to bring Hubert to his senses, anyway. “If you are _really_ so interested, I suppose I can recommend a book on the subject.” It did not take a genius to guess that he was extremely sceptical of her genuine interest.

He was in for a nasty surprise, because Hilda’s interest was genuine, alright. Marquis Vestra had revealed a critical weakness—that he, too, was human. A little bit of studying was all Hilda needed to turn this tidbit of information into something Hubert obviously dreaded: genuine conversation. From there, he’d be totally out of his comfort zone and she’d be able to steer him where she wanted.

Or something like that. The finer details of the plan needed a little work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. Sorry this one took a long time. There was more I wanted to do with the chapter, but sitting and staring at it was not accomplishing that, so... I thought it was better just to post it. I've been making slow and steady progress on Chapter 8, too, but I don't have an ETA on that. Enjoy this one in the meantime. 
> 
> Anyway, Hubert! The idea that he knows a lot about birds is a treasured headcanon of mine. I think it just fits well with him wanting to fly on a pegasus, and he seems like the person who'd try to confront a fear of heights by learning as much about anything to do with it as he could. Plus, there's that bird metaphor he uses at the end of the A rank support! (That's it that's all of my justification. Mainly I just really liked the idea.)


	8. Secrets in the Archives

Claude had to admit it—Edelgard’s school had impressed him. Not only had it impressed him, but she knew it, too. So, alright, she’d had an advantage by showing him the most advanced class. Claude had expected that. He hadn’t expected her to be fostering critical thinking – the kid who’d talked about cannons in Dagda. _Dagda!_ Outside of the Alliance, it was Dagda who was Fódlan’s archetypical enemy, the very reason for the founding of the Officer’s Academy. Claude had sat through sermons and lectures with gritted teeth, listening to the venomous looks run around the room at the mere _mention_ of the Dagdan people.

And then the little kid just said, ‘Anyway, they’ve got cannons and we haven’t.’

So stupidly simple when put like that. It shouldn’t be so exciting! It was one random child! It wasn’t like those words had been ordained on high from the Emperor herself (the entire point of the exercise, to see what was said when they went off script). But it was… something. Possibility. With it seeming so tantalisingly close, Claude had to tread very carefully at the tea times with Edelgard so as not to overstep himself and reveal too much.

But he had to put his nervous energy into something, and therefore, sooner than he had meant to, he pressed Edelgard on the matter of the confiscated Church documents.

“Oh, yes, you were interested in those!” Edelgard said, as though she had forgotten about the matter altogether. Claude doubted that very much, but it would’ve been nice if he could get her to believe a little that _he_ had forgotten. “I’m afraid I have an urgent meeting after this, but later in the afternoon I would be glad to show you a little of what we’ve found myself.”

“You needn’t take the time out your schedule if you’re busy.”

He wasn’t just saying it because getting a chance to snoop without Edelgard looking over his shoulder would be nice – although that was, of course, also true – but because he’d noticed the circles under her eyes darkening over the past several days and he was slightly concerned that Manuela’s fussing over the Emperor might not just be protective instincts, but real fear that she would work herself into an early grave.

It would be mighty inconvenient for Claude if she were to suddenly drop dead. He’d be unceremoniously booted out of the Empire, if not out of this mortal coil, and things were just starting to get interesting.

Edelgard waved off his concern as he’d already seen her do often with Manuela. “It’s no trouble. Actually, things are a still a little chaotic in there, so it would be useful for me to find out what further progress has been made.” She took a sip of her tea and smiled into the cup. “Besides which, I don’t want the archivists to come for my head if they discover you’ve been mishandling some of the older and more delicate material.”

Claude had to laugh at that. “Don’t worry. I promise to be especially careful. It’s important for knowledge to be preserved, after all.”

That was at least one thing he was sure he and Edelgard could agree on.

Edelgard’s meeting only lasted for two hours, but it seemed to drag by like weeks as Claude paced in one of the palace’s other libraries. He picked up books whilst barely seeing them and then put them down again, only to pick up another in its place almost immediately.

Claude had never been quite patient enough. It always got him into trouble—but how could he help it? Here he was, on the threshold of such enormous potential for discovery. He hadn’t been this excited since—

Since receiving the book about the Immaculate One from Tomas.

Solon, they’d said his name really was, hadn’t they? No one had really spoken of Remire in anything except hushed whispers, talking of horrors without ever discussing anything horrific. Tomas had revealed himself as some kind of dark mage called Solon, admitted to conducting the experiments at Remire, and vanished. Remire itself was almost totally destroyed.

That’s all that Claude knew. Tomas—Solon—whatever—had been one of his few real allies at the Academy, but Claude hadn’t suspected he was anything more than an old man who’d learnt too much about the Church of Seiros from working for it to really respect the institution any more.

Maybe he should ask Lysithea about Remire. That had been the month she’d transferred to the Black Eagles class, and Manuela had spent a whole week fretting about the dangers of the mission for someone in her condition. Claude remembered how she’d been questioned so pointedly when they returned, something he thought an especially stupid extension of Fódlan’s obsession with family lines. How could Lysithea be in any way responsible for a man whom House Ordelia had recommended to Garreg Mach years before she was born?

Claude still thought there was something suspicious about the whole thing. Tomas, subtle underminer of the Church, revealed to be secretly evil all along and conveniently disposed of by the Archbishop’s darling new Professor? Say it isn’t so!

Professor Byleth had been less than darling to Rhea after siding with Edelgard, though. Ugh! Why did the whole thing have to be so damn… muddled?

There was a knock on the library door and Claude hastily sat down on the nearest chair, opened the book to a random page near the beginning, and tried to act normal. No need to _advertise_ how desperate he was to get his hands on those records.

He remembered to turn the book the right way up before the servant—Miguel, a familiar face by now—entered and asked if he still wished to attend Her Majesty in the Collections Room. Claude assented without shouting like a mad man and managed to put the book back in its place like a normal person before Miguel led the away.

‘Collections’. What an odd euphemism. They had, technically, been collected, so it wasn’t exactly _wrong._

Miguel stopped outside a door that seemed particularly nondescript and then gestured. “Please enter, Your Grace. You are expected.”

He hurried away before Claude could even touch the handle. With a shrug, he pushed the door open. He was greeted by a room with tiny windows set high into the ceiling, made even more dark and closed in by the stacks of crates and piles of documents scattered around it like a maze, and—

“Ah, Duke Riegan! Thank you for coming!”

Edelgard closed her mouth with a wry smile as the stranger who had spoken rushed forward to shake Claude’s hand. For one terrifying moment Claude thought the man would kiss his hand in the traditional greeting, but he just bowed and shook Claude’s hand at the same time, which was nearly as awkward.

“So delighted to see more nobles taking and interest in our work here!” he went on. He was a thin, wiry man with dark hair running to grey and delicate glasses perched on the end of his nose.

“Not at all,” Claude said. The man had finally stopped shaking his hand, but he still found himself reeling. He glanced at Edelgard, hoping for some clue.

She must have taken pity on him despite her obvious amusement at him being caught off guard. “This is Lord Johan von Hevring. Please forgive his… enthusiastic greeting.” She gestured behind her, and Claude spotted a figure that he hadn’t noticed at first – a small woman with a pinched expression, although maybe that was just caused by the way she glowered at Lord Johan. “And this is Lady Meredith von Urban. She is assisting Lord Johan as a representative of the Ministry of Religious Affairs.”

Which was currently being run by Count Varley’s wife after Edelgard had place the man himself under house arrest. Claude scoured his memory for some mention of House Urban, but all he remembered of it was that it was a minor noble house with branches in the Empire and the Kingdom.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Grace,” Lady Meredith said. Any tone would have looked reserved next to Lord Johan, but she was especially soft-spoken. Claude might have mistaken it for being subservient if he hadn’t seen her subtly tread on Lord Johan’s foot when he retreated to stand next to her.

He was pretty sure Edelgard had caught that small movement too, her face torn between amusement and exasperation. “Lord Johan and Lady Meredith are the main archivists here.”

Claude raised his eyebrows. “Just the two of them?”

Edelgard’s expression grew pinched, but Johan leapt in before she could say anything. “Really, it is no imposition at all! Some of these older works are so delicate that I would trust them in the hands of no one else!”

Meredith gave him a supremely distasteful look. “We have other volunteers from time to time,” she said, showing no hint of distaste in her voice, “but of course the war takes precedence.”

So they were stretched thin wouldn’t be able to perfectly oversee him. This absolutely could not be better. “Well, I’m sure in due time the work will get the attention it deserves. I know Her Majesty is especially keen on seeing what can be uncovered, and so am I.”

Johan puffed out his chest, whilst Meredith seemed barely mollified. “It will be the work of many more years, no doubt, but I know Her Majesty will see to it that it is _eventually_ completed.”

Claude grinned. Such heartwarming cynicism. “Surely you must have made some progress already?”

“Oh, yes!” Johan proclaimed, at the same time as Meredith sighed. “About one tenth of the collection has already been catalogued! And of course we were quick to identify the oldest documents in need of specialised preservation.”

“We were able to keep most of them in no worse a condition than they were found,” Meredith said. It sounded like a concession. “There is still much to be done.”

“But so much we have discovered!” was the cheerful retort. “Why, only this morning we unearthed private correspondence which we believe pertains to the creation of House Galatea as a branch of House Daphnel!”

_Not exactly how House Galatea would have you put it, I’m sure,_ Claude thought ruefully.

Meredith sighed again. “That was several hundred years ago. Hardly relevant to modern Fódlan! My lord,” she hastily tacked on to the end.

“But it shows the Church have been monitoring the personal correspondence of the nobles of Fódlan for centuries!”

A chill went down Claude’s spine.

“Not _necessarily._ ” Meredith’s words were bitten off with the tone of a tired old argument. “The Church may have acquired it after the lady’s death purely by accident. There is as much trash to be found in the Church’s collection as there is treasure. If you will insist on putting the cart before the horse and making such wild conjecture, you should at least have the _presence of mind_ to suggest it merely as _hypothesis—_ ”

Lord Johan drew himself up to his full height, which was nearly a foot taller than the lady. She didn’t even blink. “You are just too embarrassed to admit—”

“Oh dear,” Edelgard said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “They’re at it again…”

Claude sidled away from the arguing pair to stand next to her. “You just can’t get the help these days, can you?”

“They are both very good at what they do,” she replied, a feeble protest given the exhaustion in her voice. “Lady Meredith was a junior archivist at the Fhirdiad School of Sorcery, but her talents were clearly under-appreciated – she is fluent in several pre-Imperial languages. And Lord Johan has been the Master of Rolls for the Empire’s repository of laws for many decades…” The last part of this word was swallowed by a _very_ aggressive sigh from Lady Meredith. Edelgard’s expression grew even more pinched. “Though you might not think that to look at them now.”

“They remind me of Hanneman and Manuela, actually,” Claude said. “It’s a little nostalgic.”

“Yes, the occasion when Hanneman and Manuela lent their services to the archivists was certainly an experience,” she said dryly. “One, I hope, that will not be repeated.”

“Oh?”

“Let us just say that never before have I seen such four different, equally passionate arguments over the interpretation of a single line of text.”

“You haven’t? You’ve been missing out!” Claude joked, but even he felt bad about it when her shoulders sank. She really looked very small, frail, and tired.

Back in the academy, she’d always carried herself as though her spine had been replaced by solid steel, and looked at the world like there was a wall around her. Maybe she was so different because she was at home, but it reminded Claude that they were, in theory, former classmates. She’d always been an obstacle to his ambitions, but she wasn’t really an _enemy._

“Listen, I don’t want to sound like Manuela, but…” He hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t need rest? It can’t be relaxing to handle such… eccentric personalties.”

“Are you including yourself in that?” Edelgard smiled faintly. “I appreciate the gesture, but really, I am quite well.”

Well, he tried.

Johan and Meredith were still arguing. Edelgard cleared her throat and turned away from him. “I apologise for interrupting your discussion, but…”

“Your Majesty! Your Grace!” Johan exclaimed, blinking in surprise. “My most sincere apologies! One does tend to get carried away with academic discussion…”

Meredith swiftly cut in with a sour expression. “We should show His Grace what we’ve catalogued so far.”

“Quite right! Yes! On this wall here…”

Claude bent over to whisper in Edelgard’s ear as the man went on. “This guy is related to Linhardt, right?”

“His great-uncle,” she replied in a quiet monotone. “Can you tell?”

…There was an in-joke in there somewhere which Claude didn’t know Linhardt well enough to recognise. He shook his head anyway, smiling, and drew back.

“…made a careful note of the contexts of each document so they can be better organised by category at a later date,” Meredith was explaining over Johan’s disgruntled mumbling about… something, “but for now, each item has been given a reference number and a brief description in this book—” She laid her hand on top of an enormous, leather-bound tome. “—so it can be found and referred to later.”

“That’s thoughtful.” Claude eyed the size of the book, the thickness of which was comparable to Nader’s forearms, and the rolls of parchment and books that filled at least half of the shelves, running floor to ceiling. “A tenth of the collection you’ve catalogued already, you said?”

“That is my estimate, yes,” Johan said.

“A generous estimate,” Meredith mumbled.

He considered the crates upon crates piled around them. The scale of the project was just beginning to dawn on him. Combing through the documents for useful information might be more challenging than he thought.

It was also a bit numbing to think the Church had held all of _this._ Personal correspondence from nobles of the Alliance. His mother said she and his father used to exchange letters in secret, when she was called away from the border… Mother always said she’d destroyed all the ones she kept before leaving Fódlan, but if one had gone astray somewhere and fallen into the Church’s hands—

But they couldn’t, or Claude would’ve been revealed already. He would’ve never been allowed at Garreg Mach!

Or maybe it was like Meredith said and they simply didn’t know what they had. If the archivists discovered a letter for Lady Tiana from the Prince of Almyra, Edelgard wouldn’t need to bother with any farce of a political marriage. She could simply show the letter to the lords of the Alliance and they would flock to her side in an instant, even dear Hils, and Claude would have… nothing.

“Claude?” Edelgard leaned into his line of vision. “Are you alright?”

“I was just thinking I hadn’t realised quite how much paperwork would be involved here,” he said. His voice came out a bit faint, and he forced himself to smile, projecting strength into his voice. _Act normal. Act normal._ “But it’s oddly inspiring, too. Could the services of an amateur be of any use?”

Edelgard blinked at him, opened her mouth, and then closed it again.

“Can’t leave your two scholars to do all the work!” Claude added.

She was often busy with running the Empire. Even if she wanted to keep track of everything he looked at, she couldn’t possibly and neither could the other two with the amount of documents in here. The most modern things would most likely be of the least interest to them, anyway. If there was anything incriminating, there was a decent chance he could find it and destroy it before anyone else got a look in.

Johan actually gasped. “Am I to understand that His Grace is offering us his services?”

“His Grace is, and he would also appreciate it if you could just call him Claude, so he doesn’t have to talk so much in the third person.”

Meredith frowned. “Your Majesty, is this… does Duke Riegan have your endorsement?”

There was a long pause where Edelgard regarded him carefully, her expression giving nothing away, and Claude genuinely thought she might refuse. Then she gave him a soft smile that didn’t quite reach her eye. “I am confident you will find Claude’s abilities up to the task, if you can spare the time to give him a little instruction.”

Johan beamed, but Meredith was tight-lipped. “If he has Your Majesty’s approval, who am I to say otherwise?”

_Much as you might wish to._ If her scepticism had more authority behind it, he might be disgruntled—but as it was, it was just sort of funny. She seemed the type to be able to sneak a subtle ‘I told you so’ into conversation, and to really enjoy it, so if you thought about it, Claude was actually doing her a favour!

“So we are all in agreement, splendid!” Johan’s voice was as cheery as ever, but he spoke hurriedly, stumbling over his words. “Mere—Meredith! Why don’t you give Her Majesty an update on our progress whilst I show His—that is, _Claude_ how things are done here?”

The ground rules, of course, were obvious – don’t take anything out of the room, don’t touch any of the older materials with his bare hands, don’t write or draw or doodle on the materials—

“Seriously?” Claude asked.

“You would be surprised at the cavalier attitude some take towards objects of historical importance,” Johan said gravely.

The notation system was… complex, a string of numbers and letters that allegedly denoted the date of writing and the origin of the text, but exactly how it all matched up was totally lost on Claude. Johan hastily assured him that he and Meredith would be doing much of that work anyway.

“I believe that is everything you should need to know,” Johan said, “but if anything arises, of course you mustn’t hesitate to apply to myself or—er, to Lady Meredith.”

“You seemed a little hesitant there yourself,” Claude said innocently.

“Well…” He lowered his voice, a feat which Claude had not suspected him capable of. “Not to talk badly of a colleague, but Lady Meredith can be a little—brusque, at times. I hope you will make some allowances for her. She came to the Empire relatively recently at the urging of her cousin, Countess Varley, and I’m sure you know things are quite different in the Kingdom. She can still be… distrustful.”

_Are they?_ Claude wondered, but that was a thought to be put aside for now. “Don’t worry, I won’t be offended by a little directness. Lady Meredith is Countess Varley’s cousin, is she? No wonder Edelgard said she came highly recommended.”

Johan smiled and tutted. “Ah, you mustn’t think she is only here because of family connections! She is a very serious academic.”

“I only mean to say that without her being Countess Varley’s cousin, her talents might not have come to your attention,” he said.

“Oh. Well, on that front, you are correct, I suppose. We ought to consider ourselves lucky!”

“Claude!” Edelgard called. “Would you like to see what we _actually_ came here for?”

She’d sadly interrupted the pertinent point he was going to make about the feasibility of her idea of meritocratic advancement. He tucked it away for later. Might be a nice surprise to liven up those little teatimes.

Johan looked like he was gearing himself up for another enthusiastic lecture until Meredith said, “Why don’t you return to the early Adrestian plays you were compiling?” and he deflated like a hot air balloon.

“Oh, very well! A man knows when he is not wanted—”

His grumbling ceased quite abruptly as he returned to his workstation and he immediately began to scribble notes with a quill. Claude wondered what it must be like to have such absurd hyper-focus like that.

Edelgard glanced at Meredith. “I hope you’re not finding it difficult to work together?”

“He’s not as bad as those sods at the School of Sorcery,” she admitted, in an undertone, “but do not tell him I said as much. He can be rather… overbearing.”

Claude couldn’t help snorting. _I’ll say._

Edelgard also seemed amused, but pursed her lips, trying not to show it. “As long as there are no real problems, your secret is safe with us.”

Meredith narrowed her eyes at Claude but sniffed and said, “Shall we continue, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, you were telling me you’d uncovered more of Liesl von Oche’s work?”

This name had no meaning whatsoever to Claude, but Edelgard breamed excitedly when Meredith nodded. “One of a set of journals from her time at Garreg Mach. At Your Majesty’s request, I have set it aside for closer study.”

“I must write to Ingrid!” Edelgard declared. “This could be exactly what she was looking for!”

Ingrid? Now Claude was totally lost. “What’s so special about this Oche’s work?”

“Liesl von Oche was a nun at Garreg Mach about a hundred years ago. She conducted a lot of personal research there, but she was eventually found guilty of blasphemy for a lecture she gave in Enbarr,” Meredith explained. “She was expelled from the Church and her journals were confiscated.”

“She’s quite well known in the Empire,” Edelgard added. “At the time, her aunt was one of the Emperor’s favoured consorts and she was very offended by the Church’s actions.”

Claude groped through his memories for some contextual information. Fódlan has so many tiny disagreements like this to keep track of, but… “That would’ve been around the time the Southern Church was disbanded, right?”

“Correct,” Meredith said – gruff, as though she begrudged him the very knowledge. “Marissa von Oche’s campaigning on behalf of her niece, and the Emperor’s indulgence of it, is part of what raised tensions with the Southern Church in the first place, as they had sided with the Archbishop in the matter.”

“Right,” Claude said. So many noble disputes sounded so petty, yet they had such severe consequences. “So… the relevance to Ingrid is…?”

“It appears that one of the things Oche was working on was the breeding of more productive grains,” Edelgard said. “Ingrid was hoping that if we found something more concrete, she could persuade her father to join the Empire – it could be possible to breed some grains that can thrive, even in the Galatea region.”

“That’s…” He found all the words at his disposable somewhat lacking in impact. “… _ambitious._ But if you managed it…”

“Isn’t it exciting?” Edelgard’s grin even got a small smile out of Meredith. “Galatea has been plagued by famines for much of its history. This could change so many people’s lives.”

No kidding. Claude’s mind was racing. If you could make something that would grow in Galatea… why not elsewhere? Much of Almyra was arid. A poor rainy season could spell disaster if their food stores were depleted. Grains that could grow in drier conditions would be beyond desirable in Almyra. And if _Claude_ could look like one of the people behind this miraculous discovery… even better.

“Are you going to invite Ingrid to Enbarr, then?” he asked, staying casual.

“That is the plan—I don’t know when she will be able to get here, though…”

_That’s my chance._ “In that case, why don’t I spend a bit of time working on that?” A casual look at the huge tome of archived works (compiled by Meredith, he assumed, from the fastidiously neat handwriting) showed that only one of this Liesl von Oche’s journals was listed. “There’s got to be more to discover, right? You don’t want to invite Ingrid down here only to have her spend hours trying to dig out specific information.”

Meredith pursed her lips. “We do not have the time to go through each catalogued piece in minute detail.”

Of course she would take that as an insult. “Well, of course! You have much more pressing issues, I’m sure. That’s exactly why this task ought to be left to a lowly assistant like me.”

“Most lowly assistants know more about the subjects they are handling.”

Claude had committed the grave sin of admitting ignorance; a lesson he should have learned a long time ago. “A _very_ lowly assistant, then.”

To his relief, Meredith snorted. “I suppose we must make do with what we have. Liesl von Oche’s work is not so old, so perhaps even an amateur can be of use in analysing it.”

_Wow, she doesn’t hold back._ How quickly she’d adapted to the idea of having a Duke as her underling. Claude had dealt with worse, so it was more amusing than annoying, and she might provide a bit of a counterbalance to the positively effervescent Johan.

“If I’d known you were going to volunteer for a research position, I would have invited you sooner,” Edelgard said, dry but cheerful. “Actually, this is very convenient. You can keep me appraised of your progress and bring Ingrid up to date when she arrives.”

“Oh, just pile more work on me, why don’t you?” Claude laughed.

“I wasn’t intending to put you to work at all!” she protested. “You brought this entirely on yourself.”

“They do say ‘curiosity killed the cat’.”

“But satisfaction brought it back,” Edelgard replied, light and teasing. “We can only hope your work will come to such a happy conclusion.”

“Well, _I’ll_ be hoping for that, for sure.” _Whether that will be as happy for you as it would for me remains to be seen… although, in fairness, things could turn just as much in your favour and as little in mine._ “But I think I’ve derailed things again, haven’t I? You were going to talk about some of what you’ve found so far.”

“Indeed,” Edelgard said, her face growing drawn and serious in an instant. That probably meant the lightness from earlier had been false. A shame. “Perhaps the most pertinent item we found was this list of items banned by the Church—disguised as a different book altogether.”

“A secret even amongst the secrets.” Claude let out a low whistle. “This ought to be good…”

*

Edelgard had always found the path ahead to be clear. Ever since she made that vow to honour her siblings, she’d known her destiny. It had taken her further years to come to the conclusion that war with the Church was her only hope – a decision that, if it had not brought her happiness, had come with a sense of… finality. ‘I know the terrible things I must do. It have only to make myself ready for them.’

Even when the war began, she knew. She must stick to her chosen path. She must have faith—faith in the professor, in her friends… in herself.

Claude had a way of upending all of that, leaving uncertainly and frustration as her only answers. Even after so many weeks, Edelgard felt as though there was a great chasm between them. It had been her own suggestion, but the thought of taking him as a husband…

Perhaps it was because, by contrast, Byleth had always been so open. When she’d saved Edelgard’s life the first night their met, her eyes had been clear and bright, shining at Edelgard as she introduced herself afterwards. Byleth did not hope for advancement. She had simply wanted to save Edelgard’s life.

And then she’d done it again, and again, and again—sometimes it felt like Byleth had saved her very soul. With her… with her, Edelgard remembered joys she’d thought long forgotten, tainted by tragedy. Simple things, like sharing a dessert in the dining hall, or cooing over the monastery’s cats.

Perhaps it was not fair to compare Claude to the dear professor. Their countries weren’t officially as war, but her spies had uncovered enough of Claude’s activities that she suspected that that would be a technicality for only a limited time if they parted ways after this. Surely, then, it was all the more imperative that Edelgard convince him to join her. And yet…

_Am I… am I doing the right thing?_

Her instinct had been to deny Claude his plans to ‘volunteer’ at the archives. She was sure there must be an ulterior motive. Was that fair? Was she judging him too harshly? Their discussions had shown her a keen and curious intellect. Maybe his interest was genuine. Maybe he really wanted to help Ingrid.

Maybe. Maybe not.

He was so hard to know. Any time she seemed to grasp his character, it slipped through her fingers again like smoke. And he, of course, delighted in it.

Compared to Byleth…

Edelgard sighed and tried to return her attention to the letter she’d been reading.

_Byleth… what would you do? In my place?_

_I wish I could ask you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so. I realise this took a while. I'm really sorry about that. I didn't anticipate falling so far behind on the schedule but... I think 2020 has been that sort of year, which also translates into some writing struggles. I had my doubts about this chapter but I decided to bite the bullet and make myself post it and hopefully it will be uphil from here... although, again, unfortunately I can't promise regular updates. The good news is that Chapter 9 is also ready apart from some minor editing so you guys can have that one next week. If you guys do have any constructive criticism or concerns I'm always happy to hear.
> 
> Also I'm sorry (but not really sorry) for going full historian here and being like A R C H I V E S S U B P L O T. The name of this chapter is based on Natalie Zemon Davis's very excellent and also very short and readable book, _Fiction in the Archives_. Mainly so that I could plug the book to y'all, not gonna lie.
> 
> Thanks everyone for your continued support, especially during a months long gap, haha. Hope everyone has a great December.


	9. Grasp the Stars

Despite Edelgard’s misgivings, the teatimes remained a highlight of her day – although perhaps this was just a sign of how well the rest of her time was spent. When she finished her reports and looked up at the clock to see that it was nearly time to meet Claude, she breathed a sigh of relief.

A pleasant surprise was waiting for her in the hallway—Lysithea, smiling and for once with some health colour in her cheeks. It brought a smile to Edelgard’s own face. “You’re feeling better today, I see?”

“How do you always know these things before I tell you?” Lysithea complained, but good-naturedly; she was still smiling when she shook her head. “You normally meet Claude at this time, don’t you? Do you mind if I join today?”

“No, not at all!” And if Claude had any objections, he could go hang. “Should I ask the kitchens to send up some more pastries?”

“No!” Lysithea replied. “I don’t need sweet treats.” She sighed and pouted, although she would have objected in the strongest terms if Edelgard told her that. “Besides, I shouldn’t eat too much. Hanneman said he would be by later in the afternoon.”

Edelgard couldn’t help that her smile faltered a little. “So soon?”

She raised her chin, defiant. “I was feeling better, so I wrote to him.”

Resignedly, Edelgard let the objections on her tongue fade away. The blood draws and studies and experimental cures took their own toll, but at this point there were no good options. Manuela said she thought Lysithea only had a few years left – maybe four or five, if she was lucky.

If Edelgard had any say in it, she would be luckier than _that._

She forced herself to smile again and offered Lysithea her arm. “Come, then, my lady,” she said, deepening her voice. “Shall we take tea together before that anticipated hour?”

As she’d hoped, Lysithea laughed, and they walked together to tea.

Claude looked up as they both entered and gave an exaggerated double take. “Oh no, there’s two of you now?”

“I’m sure you can weather the storm,” Edelgard said breezily. Having Lysithea beside her made her feel like she had to set an example. Show no weakness. Walk tall.

She stood whilst Lysithea took Edelgard’s usual seat at the table. “El—Edelgard tells me you’ve been working in the archives for a while.” Lysithea poured herself some tea and began to add sugar. “Tell me about it.”

Edelgard’s heart sank, even as she tried to keep her cheerful expression. _Oh, Lysithea…_

When they first recovered the Church documents, Edelgard had had them combed through for information about Crests – anything that might help Hanneman discover a cure. They had found nothing relevant, but since the collection was still in such disarray, it was always possible that something had been missed…

She hadn’t realised quite how desperately Lysithea was still clinging to that hope, years later. Perhaps it was because it was ‘years later’, after so many dead ends. But it simply appeared that, in the Crest-obsessed society of Fódlan, it had never before occurred to anyone to try _removing_ a Crest. Hanneman was trying his best, but it was totally new territory for Crestology.

Claude didn’t answer immediately, instead squinting at Lysithea’s cup. “Do you want some tea with that sugar?”

Lysithea blinked at him.

“Never mind.” He rolled his head, his neck making a _crk_ sound. “It’s been very boring, I’m afraid – nothing much to report at all. I found another of Oche’s journals and have learned more about a dead nun’s love affairs than I ever wished.”

“There was _nothing_ of interest—? Oh, Miguel, thank you,” Edelgard added quickly, seeing the servant appear with another chair.

Claude, of course, took full advantage of the opportunity to pause dramatically, waiting until she was seated before saying: “Well, there was _something._ Just a clue.”

He did not elaborate, despite Edelgard leaving him a significant pause. He smiled as she frowned at him.

Lysithea broke the silence by snorting and covering her mouth, a poor attempt at hiding her amusement. “Edelgard—your face—”

“What?”

Sipping her tea, Lysithea shook her head before replying. “It’s just nice to see that you have exactly the same reactions to getting to know the real Claude as the rest of us.”

_**Am** I getting to know the real Claude? _Edelgard pushed the thought aside. Now was the time to enjoy Lysithea’s company, not worry about… other things.

“Well, I—” She flailed her hands, trying to capture her vexation without words, but gave up and slumped her shoulders when Lysithea let out another snort. She glared at Claude. “Too many dramatic pauses ruins the denouement.”

“But your flustered expressions will remain a treasure,” he replied. “I won’t keep you in suspense. _Further_ in suspense. Oche made a reference to the agricultural experiments you’re so interested in – not in detail, sadly. But it does narrow it down for us. They must have been done before 1054.”

“I see.” Edelgard had been hoping for more than that. A letter to Ingrid sat in her personal quarters, unfinished, waiting for some good news to be appended to the bottom.

“You talked it up too much,” Lysithea told Claude.

“With all these paper cuts I suffered, it felt like a significant discovery to _me._ ” He leaned over to pat Edelgard’s hand, startling her. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I’ll make sure to work on my dramatic timing.”

She lifted her chin and nodded as imperiously as she could. “See to it that you do!”

Lysithea took a long sip of her tea, looking thoughtful. “You said agricultural… This is for Ingrid?”

“It was something I promised to look into for her, yes.”

There was a pause before Lysithea set her cup down with sudden force. “I’d like to help. I might as well make use of the time I have.”

Edelgard knew she must mean ‘before Hanneman arrived’, but she still winced.

“You didn’t have any other plans, Claude, did you?” Lysithea asked, glowering at him for full effect.

“Even if I did, I suspect I’d be experiencing a sudden change of mind about now,” Claude said dryly. “Sure, come along. Can’t hurt to have another pair of eyes. Have you been in there before?”

_You couldn’t know how much,_ Edelgard thought as Lysithea nodded.

She snatched up one of the pastries and took an enormous bite. “I’d better eat up. To fortify myself.”

“Cake is always how I prefer to energise myself for a long afternoon of turning pages.” Claude’s eyes flickered towards Edelgard and he smirked at the site of her suppressed smile. “What a dedicated scholar you are, Lysithea.”

“The honey and orange cakes should be especially _fortifying,_ ” Edelgard said, knowing they were a particular favourite of Lysithea’s.

She gasped and pulled the plate towards her.

Edelgard couldn’t hide her smile a smile. The small joys in life were so important. She hoped they would never end for Lysithea.

A few moments later, Edelgard noticed the way Claude was looking at her—sharply, all traces of levity gone. It didn’t seem he was trying to hide it, because he didn’t look away when she caught his eye. Instead, his expression slowly morphed into another smile, lopsided and wry, almost… soft. She frowned at him and mouthed, ‘What?’, but he only shook his head and helped himself to something further from the table, asking Lysithea if she still pulled all-nighters like she used to.

Edelgard often wondered exactly what he was thinking, but then, especially, she would have given a great deal to know.

She was started when the plate of honey and orange cakes suddenly appeared under her nose. “Edelgard, you have to try one!”

“I’m fine,” she replied, blinking. They did smell divine, but they were Lysithea’s favourite… “You should have them.”

Lysithea scowled and shook the plate insistently.

“I think you’d better let her share with you,” Claude said. He sounded almost back to his usual casual, light-hearted tone—almost but not quite. “After all, how often does Lysithea share sweets? This is a momentous occasion!”

“I—I’m always happy to share!” Lysithea protested.

The hesitation did not help her case.

“You won’t mind if I help myself to one, then?” Claude asked.

“Of course not!”

He grinned. “Wonderful. Maybe I’ll have a couple. Or even three. I’m feeling a bit hungry”

Lysithea moved the plate further away from him seemingly without even noticing. “W-Well, there aren’t _that_ many left—” There were six. “—so maybe you should hold off. You have tea with Edelgard every day, after all. It’s only fair to let someone else help themselves to the choicest parts.”

Smiling, Edelgard decided to take Claude’s advice before the offer was rescinded. She wasn’t sure if Lysithea even noticed, as she was preoccupied with his continued teasing. Perhaps Edelgard was overthinking his reaction, and it was only a soft spot for an old, ill classmate. He couldn’t have ulterior motives for everything.

“Anyway,” Lysithea said with an air of finality, shielding the plate of cakes with her arms, “if you and Edelgard might be getting married, you don’t want to get fat. I’m doing you a favour.”

Edelgard choked on her tea.

*

When Edelgard returned to her Emperor duties, Lysithea was still talkative, practically boisterous: chattering away about the other former Black Eagles, Hanneman’s estate, meeting Manuela’s old friends from her days as an opera singer…

It was kind of cute to see her so lively. Was this all Lysithea’s idea of fun, or was she in a good mood because of Edelgard? If Claude had still doubted their friendship being genuine, that tea would have convinced him. Had they been so close at Garreg Mach and he’d simply never noticed, or had it only come about over the past few years? They even looked alike enough to be sisters, with that unusual hair of theirs.

Claude envied them that. A close relationship with any of his half-siblings had always been out of the question. It was hard to begrudge the sickly Lysithea, though.

“You said you’d been to the archives before?” he asked once he was able to get a word in edgeways.

“Oh – a while back, yes.” She waved her hands dismissively. “It’s just like being at the library at Garreg Mach, I know what I’m doing—though Meredith says she’s come up with a more efficient categorisation system—”

_And she’s off again…_

As Claude had suspected, Lord Johan was delighted to see Lady Lysithea as well as ‘just Claude as my lord requested’. Lysithea raised her eyebrows at Claude as soon as Johan had turned his back.

“He’s trying, I think,” Claude said.

She snorted.

“Lysithea!” Meredith emerged from behind a stack and actually smiled a little. “Are you quite well? I heard—”

“I’m fine,” Lysithea snapped, but Meredith had obviously heard this line as much as the rest of the them and only raised an eyebrow in response. Lysithea relented a little. “I feel well today.”

Meredith nodded. “Good.”

With that, Lysithea seemed ready to jump straight in. “What year are we looking for in Oche’s journals again?”

“Before 1054.”

“Alright. If you see…” Lysithea hesitated. “Never mind. It’s better not to split our focus.”

Claude frowned, wondering what she’d been about to say. “If you say so. But hey, if you find the journal, I’ll owe you one, so I can look for whatever later. When you’re… busy.”

“ _You’ll_ owe me one? Not Ingrid?” She shook her head. “Of course you have your own interest. Thank you, though.”

And so their boring quest began.

Claude had already marked a couple of boxes which _seemed_ to be likely material, but it turned out to be full of dead ends – as well as, hilariously, some well-read erotica about Saint Seiros. _I guess everyone has to have a hobby, even in a monastery…_

He passed those two books off to Meredith and was disappointed not to see her blush, but she kept up a muttered diatribe about ‘blasphemers’ under her breath for a full five minutes, so there was one amusing diversion that came from it.

Amusing, but ultimately not relevant. Claude sighed and stood up, flexing his back to ease some of the tightness in his muscles. He knew Hilda had gone on and on about how the jacket was _essential_ to his dignity, but it was stiflingly warm in the archives and he realised suddenly how parched his mouth was.

“Lysithea?” Meredith’s voice came, tentatively, from behind yet another stack. Claude wandered over to see her offering a tall cup to Lysithea. “It’s rather warm. Perhaps some more water?”

Blinking owlishly, Lysithea stared at the cup for a moment. “I… suppose I should.”

It was another long pause before she actually took it. Her hands shook so much that some water spilled over them.

Claude lurched forward uselessly. Meredith was the one who actually caught it before it slipped from Lysithea’s fingers entirely.

“You need fresh air!” she said, alarmed. “Manuela—she needs to see Manuela— _Johan!_ ”

“I’ll find someone to fetch her,” Claude said, starting for the door.

“No! I—” Lysithea shook her head, but the action made her stumble, as though she was dizzy. Meredith caught her and eased her into a chair. Lysithea choked. “I was feeling _fine._ It was supposed to be a good day—”

Her voice cracked at the end and the rest of her sentence became a whisper that never reached Claude’s ears. He ducked out before it could feel like he was intruding. Lysithea had always hated to show weakness—hated _being weak._

Claude frantically scoured the corridor until he found a guard to fetch Manuela, and realising he had nothing better to do, followed him to a room he recognised as Edelgard’s study. To his surprise, the guard knocked but didn’t wait for permission before he opened the door. “Your Majesty, I’m sorry to interrupt, but you said—”

Edelgard bolted to her feet so quickly that papers scattered everywhere. “Lysithea?!”

Manuela was there too, and in an instant she transformed from friendly smiles to grim professionalism. She picked up a bag – her medical bag? – and gave Edelgard a significant look. “Send a note to the gate. If Hanneman isn’t here yet, he’ll want to know about this when he arrives.”

“Of… course…” Edelgard trailed off, staring vacantly into space, before she shook herself. “Thank you for informing us.”

The guard was called upon to escort Manuela to the archives, and with a promise that Her Majesty would be informed when Lysithea was settled and well enough for visitors, the door closed behind them.

Edelgard sank slowly back into her chair with a sigh, resting her head in her hand. “This happens more often than I would like, now. And there is so little I can do for her…”

Claude wasn’t sure if she was talking to him until she raised her head to look at him. They were more or less the same age, but with her white hair and exhausted demeanour, she seemed much older.

He had no idea what he was supposed to say, but he refused to avert his gaze. After a moment of holding her gaze, he hazarded, “Is there any hope?”

“There’s always hope,” Edelgard said. She let out the same tired sigh, and when she rose from her chair again, it seemed to take a heroic effort. “Please excuse me. I must… make some arrangements.” Her eyes briefly glittered with an echo of the amusement they’d shared earlier, at tea. “And I am not about to leave you in my study unattended.”

“Ah, you got me,” Claude said, but it was half-hearted. When she locked the door behind her, they parted in silence and he was left alone in the hallway. He watched her walk away, two guards immediately detaching themselves from the wall to follow her, without really seeing it.

_Hanneman._ With a moment to breathe, he could finally put a finger on what had unsettled him. Of course the whole thing was unsettling. Poor Lysithea. But that wasn’t what had jumped out at him as suddenly _wrong_.

Hanneman…

Why would he need to know if Lysithea needed medical attention?

*

Claude had not been forbidden from going to the archives by himself late at night, but he was sure that was only because it hadn’t come up yet. Lysithea was sleeping off her ‘attack’ - Edelgard had sent him a note. The note didn’t mention Hanneman, only Manuela.

Maybe she’d realised she’d made a mistake. Maybe the ‘mistake’ was only a product of Claude’s over-active mind. But even if Hanneman’s interest in Lysithea’s health was only the ‘adoptive uncle’ or ‘master/apprentice’ type, it still seemed strange to mention it in an urgent situation. They didn’t mention Lysithea’s parents, although maybe that was because it would mean sending letters too often—

_Well, that was a depressing train of thought._

The only other reason he would think of that Hanneman might be notified was, of course, because of his expertise on Crests. Which was a crazy thought, but… there _was_ a lot about Crests that was still unknown. He’d never heard about Crests complicating a medical issue, but maybe that was because the Riegan Crest was regenerative. It was hardly the sort of thing that would be publicised – by the nobility or the Church – because Crests were such an important symbol of power.

So maybe it wasn’t such a mad thought after all. And if his little hunch _was_ correct, he knew exactly what Edelgard would’ve done once she got her hands on the Church archives… so he was sneaking to the collections room in the dead of night to satisfy his curiosity.

There were guards about but they weren’t very attentive, and Claude snuck past them with little enough trouble.

In the archives, he went straight for the guide book (what he thought of as a guide book, anyway). The pages were filled with Meredith’s neat, cramped handwriting. The earliest pages weren’t that relevant: the oldest records, ones they’d obviously hastily documented so they could be properly preserved. Claude doubted very much that even a direct order from the Emperor could get Meredith and Johan to give up on _those._

Claude turned another page and saw the word ‘Crests’.

‘On the heritability of Crests…’

‘The advantages of Crest-bearers compared to a normal human…’

‘Rumours of individuals with more than one Crest…’

‘The strongest Crest?’

‘Comparing Major and Minor Crests…’

‘Is it possible to “improve” a Crest?’

Pages and pages of material, all to do with Crests – no, a handful about Relics instead; those he’d have to look at later. Some of the subjects came up again and again, things the Church had had to suppress several times. The heritability of Crests was a particularly popular topic for obvious reasons.

The entries about Crests petered out after a few pages, eventually filled with a wider variety of subjects – a new, less obvious, bias towards agricultural topics and then – ah! There was the first of Oche’s journals.

The amount of Crest-based material assured Claude that his hunch had been right. Edelgard _was_ looking into Crests. He felt a surge of triumph at having found this piece of the puzzle, even if he didn’t understand _how_ Crests figured into Lysithea’s condition yet, until he realised what the lack of new entries about Crests meant: Edelgard’s people didn’t find anything to help Lysithea. She was still dying.

_And it has something to do with her Crest… but how?_

Unanswered questions always irritated Claude, but that was probably enough investigation for now. He took a look at the crates and books piled around the place, wistfully considering having some time to go through them without prying eyes—but it was already late and he didn’t want to be stuck here the whole night.

Leaving the archives, Claude padded through the hallways trying to get things straight in his head. Maybe his next move should be to read up on some of the forbidden Crest scholarship. Maybe that would give him a better idea of what could be wrong. And, of course, the Relics! That was the kind of information he’d been desperate for at the Academy. No wonder he’d found so little in Garreg Mach’s library… Tomas, Solon, _whoever,_ must have been giving him books from the Church’s archives…

Sudden voices stopped him dead in his tracks. Guards. Claude _could_ probably explain away him walking around in the middle of the night unaccompanied, but he would prefer to save those excuses for another time.

He slid into an alcove where he knew there was an empty room. The guards shouldn’t come in, and definitely shouldn’t see him if he found a spot at the back of the room to loiter—

“…General Shamir soon…”

Claude paused, lingering in the doorway. He hadn’t been surprised when he learnt Shamir had defected to the Empire – especially when Edelgard immediately made her a General, an advancement which even her home of Dagda probably would never offer her. It was one of the biggest signs that Edelgard really might mean ‘everyone’ when she talked about her goals.

“…don’t understand Her Majesty’s thinking,” one of the guards was saying.

There was the quiet clink of moving armour. “Not for us to know, is it?”

“But a _Dagdan?_ ”

Claude put his ear to the doorway to hear better.

“Her Majesty might as well have made the Archbishop one of her court, surely,” the same voice continued.

“Don’t be stupid,” replied her companion. “You know what Dagda is like! They could have attacked us whilst Her Majesty was occupied in Fódlan and we’d stand no chance. It’s obviously just to placate them.”

“How does that work?” The sarcasm was obvious. “They won’t bother sending spies if they already have one who got promoted?”

“Perhaps.”

A pause. “You’ve got a point, actually—a known spy—you can feed them misinformation, can’t you? And Her Majesty put the Dagdan in charge of the cooperative force with Brigid, keeping her away from Imperial troops…”

“You see?” The sound of a hand clamping down on someone’s shoulder echoed in the empty corridor and in Claude’s ears. “If you meet Her Majesty you’ll know she only has the best interests of Fódlan in mind. She won’t settle for leaving our greatest enemy alone for long. If Shamir has to be a General to convince Dagda she’s going to play nice, well, it’s a small price to pay.”

“Oh! You mean…” Claude’s ears strained as her voice lowered. “After Fódlan is united – Dagda is next?”

“Shh! Of course Her Majesty can’t say so, and we’ll need time to rebuild, but I’m sure of it. What better way to convince the Kingdom and Alliance of Her Majesty’s righteousness?”

“Alright, alright—I should know better than to doubt the Emperor around you anyway…”

There was more, but Claude didn’t hear it. His ears were filled with a buzzing and it wasn’t until the sound of their voices totally faded away that he found himself able to move at all.

Perhaps stupid of him, but he’d never thought Edelgard’s ambitions might extend _beyond_ Fódlan. She seemed so obsessed with the evils of the Church that he hadn’t considered—

It was just one guard’s opinion, he told himself, even if the guard seemed to have spoken with Edelgard directly. Claude was at least sure her promotion of Shamir was not a clever ploy against spies, mainly because that was not remotely a clever ploy against spies, and Hubert would never let Edelgard be that stupid.

But just because the Emperor liked and recognised Shamir’s talent didn’t mean much. Shamir had been in the Knights of Seiros before and it had meant nothing. The kid in the school who commented on the cannons… had Edelgard ever commented on that? Believing that it should be able to be said didn’t mean she thought it was right. Even if she did, if there were enough of her people—enough people in Fódlan—who thought otherwise…

She said her new regime would allow anyone to advance who had the talent. Did she really _mean_ anyone? Claude was filled with doubt. He’d listened to her go on about her goals, sometimes barely refraining from rolling his eyes, but how much did he know Edelgard in reality? She was likeable in her own over-serious way, but a few weeks of sitting down to tea together couldn’t tell you all there was to know about someone.

_Even if she means everything she says, what does that actually mean for me?_

Not a lot, really. The same thing he’d encountered in Fódlan over and over – the pure self-centredness, the fundamental belief that they were the only part of the whole world that mattered. _Claude_ only mattered through a stroke of good luck and if he suffered a stroke of bad luck the reverse would become true overnight – Hilda, Judith, Ignatz—they’d all abandon him. Edelgard too.

The fact that Edelgard had even crossed his mind there was a bad sign. How many times would he make this mistake? A coward’s son, sired by a beast, nowhere just a boy, a man, a friend. He was anathema and he ought to have learnt—

He drew to a sharp stop in front of the door to his room, breathing hard. He had no memory of getting there and could only hope no one had seen him storming away like a mad man. The door handle was right in front of him but it seemed miles away. Claude’s hand hovered over it, then dropped to his side. Sleep? In this state?

He turned away, his feet now leading him in the direction of the floor’s grand balcony, looking out over the palace’s beautiful gardens. The stars had been the closest thing Claude had to friends as a child – he’d learnt all the legends of the heroes immortalised in those stars, peoples from all over the world in the distant past…

As a boy, he’d imagined himself sharing in their journeys, becoming true friends, and then being welcomed amongst the stars with all the others. When he was too old for such childish dreams, he’d vowed instead to do something great enough to count among their number.

_C’mon, you know better. Enjoy the company, enjoy the conversations, but don’t forget who you are—who you are to **them.**_

The night was chill and utterly silent. Above his head, the stars twinkled merrily, but could not penetrate the darkness below. Claude felt more distant from them than ever.

*

_He coughed, blood spraying across El’s face. She couldn’t see, but she knew it from the smell. Freddy had been the strongest of them, even with no Crest. Able to outfight men twice his age and experience, on the first day he’d broken free and shattered one of Those Men’s heads against the wall before they got him back under control. It had turned El’s stomach then, but now she thought of it with pride._

_Freddy’s every breath was laboured. He didn’t have the strength to lift his head from her lap, and she felt the rattling of his bones through her legs as he breathed._

_Freddy had been the strongest of them, but now even he was dying._

_It was almost okay now. If Freddy couldn’t survive the mage’s torture then soon she would go too – the last one. El would be together with all her siblings and no one would ever hurt them again._

“ _El—” Freddy said. The rest of his words were swallowed by another hacking cough._

“ _It’s okay,” she whispered. It wasn’t at all, but she’d become so numb to the pain – in her legs, her arms, her hands, her chest – that all she could feel was a constant, dull ache, and that was better._

_It would all be over soon. It would be okay when it was over._

“ _You’ll be strong,” Freddy rasped._

_El wasn’t strong. Freddy had been strong – he’d fought and raged and cried every moment he could. El had curled up at the back of her cell, trying and failing to quieten the vile relief that welled up when she was ignored. When she wasn’t Freddy had always been there to comfort her afterwards._

_She didn’t have any comfort left to give him now, only bitter lies. It wasn’t fair._

“ _You—” Another hoarse breath, like nails ran over a rough surface. There was no point in telling him to save his strength, so El let him talk. “You have to—keep going—”_

_A lightning bolt of fear made her shudder. The only thing more terrifying than the thought of being taken to Their table again was the thought that it would never end. Alone, no peace, just the pain and the cold and the rats over and over and over._

_El was startled when something cold touched her hand – gently, because it still hurt. It was only Freddy and not the rats, this time. “My brave sister,” he said._

_**I’m not brave.** And she didn’t deserve to be his sister, having nothing to offer him in his dying moments. It wasn’t fair. It was never fair._

_She brushed her hand over his forehead, which was somehow cold and sweating at once. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She couldn’t have said for what. For everything. The apologies Freddy deserved to hear but would never get._

_He didn’t seem to have anything else to say. El listened to his rattling breaths, the echoes of them in the tiny cell, until they stopped._

_He’s dead, she thought. There was little pain in it any more, or too much, more than she could bear at once – she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t even angry now, as she’d been the first several times. Of course Freddy didn’t deserve this, no one did, but she was just so… tired._

_A snuffling noise jolted her from her thoughts. It was still hours until sunrise and already the rats…_

_A cold touch of flesh against her had El stifling a shriek and scrambling away, finding the wooden board which served as a bed and curling herself up on it, as small as possible. ‘Brave sister’. She wasn’t even brave enough to keep him whole until morning. She wasn’t brave enough to be brave. She wanted it all to go away. She wanted to be dead with her siblings. She wanted—_

_**I’m sorry Freddy I’m sorry—** _

*

Edelgard woke, choking on a scream before it could leave her lips. _Silent, silent._

The rats made almost no noise. She never knew when they were coming and she held her breath, straining her ears…

She shook her head and forced herself to breathe. She watched her fists tighten around the sheets, feeling like they belonged to someone else. _There are no rats. You aren’t there. Breathe. Breathe!_

Unbidden, the image of Lysithea turning her face away so Edelgard wouldn’t see her tears flashed before her eyes.

Edelgard threw the covers off herself before she could be tempted to tear them in her frustration. Pacing the room, with her nightgown flowing behind her, she felt rather more like a wraith than a person. Maybe that was the purpose of the nightmare – to remind her that her life was no longer her own. She had vowed never again to let an innocent suffer as her family had.

Her vow meant so little in the face of Lysithea’s condition and how rapidly her body was breaking down under the strain of sustaining two Crests. A useless vow.

And Edelgard was just as useless to Lysithea now as she had been to her dying brothers and sisters. _I must do more—I must—_

The words felt heavy under the weight of all she was still unable to do. She flexed her hands trying to ease the cramping. Her ugly, scarred hands, which could kill with ease, but had yet to save anyone.

Edelgard had a faint memory of Byleth holding her ungloved hands and smiling. She thought of that night often – she’d woken from such terrible dreams, and yet the moment of it that she felt the strongest was the warmth of Byleth’s skin on hers. She tried to remember that feeling now, but the memory vanished like smoke the harder she tried to grasp it. Her dear teacher, yet another person Edelgard had failed. _I should have looked harder for you. I…_

Her head was abuzz. The room seemed stuffy and the air dead. There was barely room to breathe around the ghosts.

“I need some air,” she said aloud.

There was nobody to respond but she still felt judged. She remembered the little girl who had thought of fresh air as an enormous privilege, something she prayed for over and over again, above even an end to the pain. El, the girl who died and left only…

The Emperor fled.

She let her feet carry her without thought, pushing through doors and thinking only of keeping her breathing even. The cool night air raised goosebumps on her skin, but it was a welcome relief; she gasped, sucking it in like a dying woman. Everything felt more real out here.

“Edelgard?”

She jumped like a frightened deer. A figure she hadn’t seen in the wan light stood at the edge of the balcony. What on earth was _Claude_ doing out here? Subtly, she reached up to make sure the neckline of her nightgown covered everything it was supposed to, only to freeze as her hand touched the silk.

Her gloves. She wasn’t wearing her gloves.

It was dark, she told herself. Surely he wouldn’t be able to see anything? Even so, she would have retreated then and there if Claude had not seemed totally disinterested in her. He’d already turned away, staring out over the dark gardens. “Just couldn’t keep away from me, huh?”

Something about the tone immediately alarmed her. It wasn’t even the usual biting humour that she’d come to associate with Claude’s mood; instead, his voice was tired… empty.

Her instinct was to retreat with a platitude. Her own nightmares were enough. But… hadn’t she just been thinking of the night Byleth offered her some much needed comfort? When Edelgard had not in the least deserved it? She had been missing Byleth all this time and judging Claude for falling short, but… was that fair? _She_ had not been honest and open with Byleth until the fateful encounter in the Holy Tomb. Perhaps it was time for her to take a chance… like Byleth.

And if it worked… maybe, finally, it would be one person she could reach.

“Did something happen?” She took a step closer, trying to make out his expression in the dim light. “Are you… alright?”

Claude’s face was still obscured by the lack of light but she saw him whirl around to face her – surprised? But when he replied, his voice was calm. “Ah, more or less the same as usual.”

Not an actual answer, and more evasive than his usual fair. Edelgard frowned.

“And what about _you_ , Princess?” he continued in a sharper tone. “You’re out at night for the joy of the bracing weather?”

“It is hardly a freezing midwinter’s night.” Edelgard crossed her arms over her chest, feeling exposed, although she was sure now that Claude couldn’t see her… state of dress. “I came out for some fresh air. Things have been… disturbing lately.”

“Oh… of course. Lysithea.” He turned back towards the gardens. “I’d forgotten.”

It was probably for the best that he didn’t see Edelgard’s appalled expression. She felt a little better when he asked, in a soft voice, “Was it a bad one, or…?”

“All told, no.” Edelgard couldn’t disguise the worry in her voice. “But even these minor attacks are setting her back so far… and lately they strike more often.”

Claude did not reply for some time. Edelgard thought about returning to her room, but the fresh air was pleasant and kept her head clear. She could practically _feel_ the nightmare nagging at the corners of her mind – all the worries and memories it had threatened to drag up…

“Seems unfair, doesn’t it.” His tone made it clear it was a statement, not a question. “But, life isn’t fair.”

“As I’m sure you know,” she replied, remembering that moment he’d flinched in the Church.

Claude turned to give her a sideways glance and made a non-committal noise. Edelgard assumed that would be the end of the conversation, but he said, “Do you stargaze much?”

A quiet thrill ran through her despite the confusing non-sequitur. She’d guessed this was a topic close to his heart – was this a sign of real headway? “Not as much of late, but there was a time…” She hesitated, but ploughed ahead. “There was a time when… they were one of the few comforts I had.”

“Really?” Claude didn’t actually seem doubtful, and even had a hint of cheer return to his voice. “Any favourites?”

“Xanthippe.” On such a clear night, it was even possible to see the constellation – meant to resemble a woman holding a shield.

“Ah, the Mother of Heroes, who died to save her sons.” Claude knew exactly where to find it in the sky; Edelgard knew from the curve of his neck and his jaw when he tilted his head. “Deimos and Aeneas, who slew the giant…”

“…Who shattered the land where he fell and detached Brigid from Fódlan.” Edelgard couldn’t help but smile. Father had told her lots of stories like this – her and all her siblings. The memories were vague, but joyful. A simpler, happier time. “Petra is fond of that one too. Many of the people of Brigid claim descent from Deimos and Aeneas.”

“You don’t say?” There was surely a joke hiding behind that warm grin, but he didn’t share it with her. “Personally, my favourite is Zotikos.”

“The beast tamer?”

Whilst it wasn’t the last constellation she would have picked as Claude’s favourite, it would hardly have been the first, either.

“Oh, so you know that one, too!” Claude said, of course ignoring her implicit question of ‘why?’ In fairness, Edelgard had not said why, either. “I’m impressed. Most of the people at Garreg Mach didn’t know the old tales.”

“The Church disapproves,” she explained. “Much of the mythology pre-dates its founding. It isn’t— _wasn’t_ quite blasphemous, but it was not encouraged either. I suspect that many old tales like them have been lost.”

“It really always does come back to the Church for you, huh,” Claude said wryly.

“I—well—” Edelgard found herself fumbling. Did she really come across as so one-note, even in casual conversation? “You… You mentioned Garreg Mach first!”

Claude chuckled. “True, true. But hey, cheer up. You might find some old stories in your archives. Or even further afield—if Brigid shares its legends with Fódlan, maybe some of their traditional tales used to be told here as well.”

“I suppose I hadn’t thought of that,” Edelgard said. “I don’t know if that’s necessarily true… Although I suppose I don’t really know enough about Brigid to guess.”

“Perhaps you should ask, then.”

There was a strange weight to his words, something she couldn’t quite place, as was so often the case with Claude. “If I have the time, perhaps I will. Or you could ask Petra yourself—she should be here in a few days. For more serious matters, but… well, I’m sure there will be a little time for astronomy.”

She doubted that Petra would really be in the mood for such frivolous conversation, though, from what she had been able to convey in the hasty message Edelgard had received this evening. But that was something that was best saved for tomorrow, when her head was clearer.

“Petra is coming to Enbarr, huh? Another familiar face.”

Edelgard could not tell if he was pleased, and before she could analyse it further, Claude suddenly grabbed her hand and tugged her towards the balcony. Edelgard froze, but his smile was open and easy, and his hand was warm and soothing against the chill night air that had begun to make her joints ache.

“In the meantime,” Claude said, “if you aren’t tired yet, how about I pick your brains on some more constellations?”

“You’re testing me!” she protested.

“Nooo,” he replied, drawing the syllable out with false innocence. “It’s just been a while since I’ve heard these stories told, that’s all. But of course, don’t let me keep you from your bed.”

Edelgard narrowed her eyes, but the opportunity for distraction was compelling. “Oh, very well, but I shouldn’t be out for long – and neither should you.”

“I know she’s your role model, but seriously, no need to play ‘Mother’ quite so exactly.”

She was busy looking up at the night sky, so Edelgard was surprised when a warm, soft weight dropped over her shoulder – Claude’s jacket. She wasn’t expecting him to see her small frown in the dim evening light, but it seemed like he had, because he snorted gently. “I don’t know how you managed it in this weather, but your fingers feel like ice, Princess.”

It was true that Edelgard had always felt the cold so much more since the—since the dungeons, but… “This isn’t one of your weird flirtations, is it?”

“Edelgard, I’m going to give you a piece of advice.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Even if it is—you should take the jacket anyway.”

From a certain pragmatic point of view, he was right. She pulled the jacket tighter around herself. It still didn’t sit right, but it _was_ quite warm. “Thank you, then. I’ll forgive that ‘Princess’… just this once.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. I wanted to get it out on Saturday, but I had A Week. December is being A Time. 2020 is sure trying to finish on a high note in my neighbourhood... region... life. Here's to hoping for a better 2021. With luck I would like to have a nice chapter to deliver to you guys then as well. Send me good productivity wishes lmao.
> 
> This chapter's relatively chonky but I didn't feel like it worked quite as well split up. Hope y'all have a happy new year! ~~I mean god seriously we're owed one aren't we?~~


	10. Familiar Tales

Edelgard ought to have been focusing all her energies on the upcoming visit from Petra as well as the expedition that would follow – but she could not resist taking some time to pull out her father’s old tome of folktales. A pang of guilt struck her when she saw the layer of dust over it. Claude might have been impressed with her knowledge, but in truth there was much she did not remember of the old tales…

After she survived, Father had read some of them to her, one of the few things they were permitted to do together, if under guard. Still, some of the tales Father had stumbled over and been unable to bring himself to read. Edelgard had not pressed, fearing she would only be confronted with another gap in her memory, a piece of her siblings she had not been able to keep alive.

Now her fingers itched with curiosity. Zotikos, the beast tamer – Claude’s favourite story. There must be something in that, surely.

Her hands lingered over each pages as she leafed through the book. She didn’t quite _remember,_ but… it felt like there were ghosts with her when she touched the pages. Not an oppressive feeling as with her nightmare of the previous night, but something… joyful.

It was only an echo. It might be only wishful thinking, an invention of her own mind, as she _knew_ these stories were one of the few things the Hresvelgs had done together as a large family. But even if it wasn’t completely real, the feeling of being close to her siblings again was something to be treasured. _For you. Not only for all your undeserved pain, but for all your stolen joy. For all that was taken from you._

When she finally reached _The Story of Zotikos, the Beast Tamer,_ Edelgard was more relaxed than she had felt in a long time. As she began to read, she heard the words in Father’s voice in her head, warm and comforting.

‘ _Zotikos was born under a lone star. The people of his village knew that such children were cursed to suffer misfortune, and they shunned him so that none of his misfortune would touch them as well. Yet some curses can also bring blessings: growing up with precious little kindness, Zotikos swore he would never treat another being in the same way, and in so doing he walked the path that would defeat his fate…’_

The story continued with Zotikos helping animals in the surrounding lands, from a tiny harvest mouse up to an enormous wyvern matriarch, earning the gratitude and friendship of each. When Zotikos’s village was attacked, all of the animals had a role to play in saving it. The village tried to welcome Zotikos back, but he instead chose to stay with the animals who had always been kind to him.

‘… _and so the boy who was once so lonely had loyal friends for the rest of his days. He lived a life of such joy that his animal friends could not bare to be parted from him, and when they died, they arose to the heavens and joined the lone star under which Zotikos had been born, and thus the curse that had befallen the boy was defeated forever.’_

Edelgard traced her finger over the last sentence. Even though the whole story was a translation of a translation of a dozen different-yet-similar oral tales, the author had put something powerful into it.

She wasn’t sure precisely what Claude saw in the story. Perhaps the idea of being lonely, but finding trusted friends resonated with him… Manuela had described how he seemed to hold himself back from people on purpose, to poke and prod as a means of pushing away. Edelgard would be a liar if she claimed she had never been afraid of giving her trust to someone, but that was why she knew so well the longing that could underlie such fear.

Gently, she closed the book. In the end, it was just a story. There was not always a deep meaning in such preferences, but if nothing else, it would be another conversation to have with him. Perhaps the version of the tale he knew was slightly different. She ought to ask him. They were due to have another of their teatimes soon—the last she would have the pleasure of for some time. What it would mean for the supposed marriage, she didn’t know, but she couldn’t ignore Petra asking for help.

Edelgard rose to put the book back in its place, but hesitated. There was no joy in a book sat on a shelf, unread, no way for the ghosts to be free and alive under her fingertips.

_This is a foolish sentiment,_ she told herself. _The book will still be there when the war is over. It doesn’t bring anyone back to me._

Nevertheless, Edelgard felt more at ease when she had tucked the book under her arm instead.

*

She had no clear idea what she was going to do with the book when she carried it out of her father’s study, but an answer soon presented itself in the form of a somewhat sheepish Claude striding to meet her… holding a plate of Lysithea’s favourite orange honey cakes?

“I know it’s a bit early,” he said, “but I bumped into Manuela and she said she’d put Lysithea on bedrest today – so I thought…”

Suddenly, Edelgard knew exactly who she wanted to share the book with. Still, she couldn’t help but shake her head at Claude. “You couldn’t have thought of this before the servants prepared the tea things, could you? What a waste.”

“Listen, I’m _sure_ they can figure out something to do with all those delicious snacks if they really put their minds to it.” He gave a wry smile. “Besides, if Lysithea is anything like she used to be, we might still need them. I doubt we’ll get a share in _these._ ”

He had a point, although Edelgard could hardly begrudge Lysithea some extra sweet treats when she was having a bad day.

“Anyway, Your Majesty,” Claude continued, “what… _light_ reading have you been up to?”

“It’s… just an old book from my father’s study.” She resisted the urge to hide it behind her back. “Because of our conversation last night, in fact.”

She caught the moment his interest made him sharper and more focused; the whole angle of his body changed. Was Claude even aware he did this? “Hm, really?”

“A collection of the stories we were talking about – the constellations.”

His eyes crinkled in a smile. “Ha, no wonder you were so good at it. Obviously an older book. Must’ve been in the family for some time. No wonder you were mad at the Church, if your family was like that.”

Edelgard frowned. _Like… what?_

Claude seemed satisfied and did not elaborate. “Anyway, we should probably go see Lysithea before she has time to formulate an escape plan. She never knows how to take a break, does she?”

This was safer territory. “She drives me mad with worry, sometimes.” Edelgard tried to get her to slow down, but she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t understand the unique kind of pressure which came from _knowing_ how limited your time was to make a difference to the world. “Yes, let’s go.”

She had given Lysithea—not her siblings’ old rooms, it felt too… presumptive—a replacement, tempting fate—but some of the best rooms on the top floor which had once been used by the Prime Minister’s retinue. On a clear day, even from the bed, one could see all the way out to sea.

Lysithea was propped up by a small army of pillows. She stared out towards the glittering sea with her hands balled into fists and her jaw clenched.

“Hey, Sisi!” Claude said cheerily.

Her head snapped around with a dangerous frown. “ _What_ did you say?”

“Oh, you seem in your usual spirits.” Claude held the plate of cakes up to his eyeline and pretended to examine it critically. “And I brought these upstairs to cheer you up—”

“Goddess, why are you _like_ this?!” But Lysithea couldn’t keep the frown up and her lips twitched. “Fine, I’ll forgive you just this once, since you brought treats. But _never_ call me that again." To Edelgard, she smiled. "Come sit down!"

Edelgard took the chair by the bedside, leaving Claude to perch at the end of the bed. The place of cakes was deposited in Lysithea's lap and she bit into the first one with relish.

Only then did she spot the thick book on Edelgard's lap. "What's that?"

"It's a collection of stories Father used to read it to all—to all of us.” And Claude, damn him, made a familiar sharp, curious look at the stumble. There was always the chance he would ask about that later and she would have to be prepared to defend herself from prying. She tried to focus on Lysithea in the moment instead. “I thought you might like to look it over while I’m away.”

Lysithea reached out an eager hand then pulled it back quickly. “Oh—I should finish the cakes first.”

“Wait—” Claude sat up straighter. “You’re going away? Where?”

“I was going to tell you when we had tea.” Edelgard sighed. She wished this precious time with Lysithea didn’t have to be interrupted by Empire business, but it was not to be. “In truth, Petra’s visit is not a social one—Church forces have taken over Brigid’s main island with the intention of turning them against us.”

Claude’s eyebrows rose. “That’s a bold move, considering the Church’s power at sea is extremely limited.”

“They probably want to get Dagda involved,” Lysithea mumbled through a mouthful of cake. “Maybe they were going to try handing over Brigid to their control.”

“Heh. I don’t know if Dagda is eager to try after the last time.” Claude smiled wryly. “And there’s the problem, of course, that they’d be very unwelcome in _all_ of Fódlan, which they’re well aware of.”

“Yes…” Edelgard had learnt a little of Dagda’s internal politics from Shamir, and she gathered that the last war had been an ambitious move from an upstart faction of nobles which had then backfired—but ambition was not always so easily ended. “In any case, we cannot allow our ally, Brigid, to suffer under Church control. I will be leading an expedition to free their king – with Petra, of course.”

Claude frowned. “That will take weeks… a month? More?”

“Something like that, but it can’t be helped.” Edelgard had gone back and forth on this with Ferdinand, but in the end, she couldn’t abandon the true friend who’d stood beside her against all odds, who’d chosen to trust her after everything, the friend she’d promised to help restore her country’s pride. “I trust you to keep Lysithea company whilst I’m gone.”

She’d thought it a light-hearted enough response, but his frown only deepened. No matter how she and Lysithea cajoled him, he remained distant from their conversation—whatever handsome smiles and husky laughs he hid behind, they could both see his heart wasn’t in it. Perhaps Edelgard was getting better at reading him after all. He couldn’t be thinking that he would miss her, would he? Even with the friendlier conversation last night, surely not…?

Edelgard would have happily stayed with Lysithea for the rest of the day, regardless of Claude’s behaviour, but other duties called. She had to be sure that everything was exactly as Petra’s station deserved. Exactly as it hadn’t been when she was in Enbarr as a hostage.

Lysithea coughed as Edelgard was on the threshold, though, and she immediately turned back, her heart skipping a beat—

But Lysithea seemed perfectly well—as well as she had been—when she beckoned Edelgard closer. “I just wanted to wait until Claude was gone.” Lysithea gave Edelgard a hard stare. “You should take him with you.”

Edelgard balked. “Lysithea—the consequences if—I can’t possibly—”

“Not nearly as great as the consequences of _you_ dying,” she replied, low and bitter, startling Edelgard into silence. “It didn’t change your mind.”

She turned her face away, hands fisting in the blankets. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

“If I can’t go with you to protect you,” Lysithea said at last, “will you at least listen to my request?”

“I…” Edelgard hesitated. “I will have to… consider…”

“To consider what? The risks? You already know those.”

“I—” She couldn’t explain herself, not even really within the confines of her own head. All she knew what that she’d grown used to fighting alongside the Black Eagles, but Claude—it just left a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know how he would act, sometimes it felt like she could _never_ know— “I don’t even know if he would want to come.”

It was a weak objection, but better than admitting how irrational she was being. The nightmare of last night still felt fresh and pressing—

Lysithea gave a slight smile. “Have you _met_ Claude? He’s never been to Brigid—I assume—so you know he’d love to go.”

Of course, as soon as it was said aloud, it seemed obvious.

Edelgard winced as Lysithea sighed and turned to her with a downcast expression. “I thought you really wanted this to work.”

“I did—I do!” Edelgard protested. “I am… trying.”

“I know Claude can be hard to get along with,” Lysithea said. She pulled a face, startling a chuckle from Edelgard. “Do I _ever_ know. But if you keep trying—if you manage to connect with him—”

She was interrupted by a series of hacking coughs, but she slapped Edelgard’s hands away when she tried to help.

“I should go—you’re overexerting yourself—do you need Manuela?”

“You won’t go until I’ve said my piece!” Lysithea snapped, her voice still raspy. “I’m… fine. I’ll rest when you’re gone… I swear.”

“If you say so.”

“Claude…” Lysithea sighed again. “He’s always so careful with everything, but—he’s really smart. And driven. I don’t know what it is that drives him, but the way he is sometimes, he reminds me of you.”

Edelgard blinked. “He does?”

“That’s why I think it must be something important… whatever his goal is.” Lysithea smiled. “No, I know it must be. I think if you were to work together, you would only make each other stronger.” She bowed her head. “And… if war can be diverted from my parents’ lands… from the people of the Alliance…”

Edelgard took Lysithea’s hand and squeezed it gently. That had been the whole point of the exercise in the first place, had it not? This wasn’t a war fought for glory, but for the people. She has a greater duty to them than to her own—misgivings. “I will try… harder. And I will ask Claude if he wishes to come. Alright?”

Lysithea beamed. “Thank you, El. Now you can go, I’m sure you’re late for something.”

She certainly was, but— “You know that if you need me, I will come.”

“I know, I know,” Lysithea said. She softened. “You always will. So I know you’ll come home, as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Later than I anticipated once again. Oops. I took a break from Three Houses for a while to cleanse my palate writing for another fandom, but now I'm back! This chapter is short because I split a much longer chapter (a bit too long for my liking) into two in order to have more time to polish the second half. They're meant to be sort of two halves of a whole so look out for the next chapter within a few days. It's about twice the length of this one lmao. 
> 
> The great thing about making up your own folk tales is that you can make them as hilariously on point as you like! :D Hope you guys are doing well and staying safe. I will have more to talk about in the author's notes of next chapter because I suffered through so many google searches and I have to tell you about them.


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